Shakespeare Legend: The King's Men
by Azarius
Summary: The characters of William Shakespeare comes to life in this modern and original twist on Shakespeare's classic plays when teenager Anne Hathaway and the King's Men have to stop the mysterious Critics from finding the Seven Relics . . . . Please R&R!
1. Chapter One

**The Legend of Shakespeare** by Raymond Gilstrap

Book One: The Golden Skull

**Synopsis**

Anne Hathaway is a normal sixteen-year-old girl who has the perfect boyfriend in Will Stratford, who seems unable to tell a single lie. Living with her older sister Alice, Anne enjoys writing sonnets and reading anything that was ever written by William Shakespeare.

Perhaps her fascination with Shakespeare is the reason behind the dreams that she keeps having, dreams about a girl named the Dark Lady, who interacts with the characters from Shakespearean plays. Anne's sub-conscious mind has created her own world of Shakespeare and in that world, the Dark Lady is plotting to take over by making a covenant with a group of invaders known as the Critics.

Anne believes that her dreams are only dreams, but when she reads from a glowing manuscript that was actual written by Shakespeare himself, the world of Shakespeare collide with Anne's world in ways beyond imagination.

Now, Anne finds herself inside the plays of Shakespeare and she must join forces with a group of soldiers called the King's Men, who are led by Prospero from _The Tempest _and Oberon from _A Midsummer's Night Dream_, to stop the Dark Lady and the Critics from finding the Seven Relics, magical artifacts that can bring ultimate power to anyone who possesses them.

It is Shakespeare like you have never read before . . . .

**Chapter One**

Have you ever taken a step back from your day-to-day activities and observed your own life wondering how you ever managed to do something extraordinary, something that you would have never expected yourself to be capable of in a million years?

Well, if you have never done so, then that's just too bad. You need to because I am pretty sure that you can find something awesome that you have done in the past that has awed everyone, including yourself, if you only take some time out of your busy schedule to reflect for a while.

I find myself doing it quite often because self-reflection is invigorating and relaxing—well, at least to me anyways—and although, I can name at least a handful of surprising and awesomely cool things that I have done before, there is always one that surprises me the most.

Even to this day, I cannot explain how or why it happened. If you ask Will to explain the bizarre phenomenon, then you will get the same response. It was indescribable, it was instantaneous, and it was unexpected. It was something more than just a physical attraction. It was love at first sight and I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

For as long as I live, I will always remember two things—the first time I met Will and the day that we fell in love, with the second being the extraordinary event.

We met in chemistry class of all places. It was last year during our sophomore year of high school and I was a complete nerd back then. I am still a nerd now but last year, I looked like one from head to toe.

My blond hair was stringy and clumpy, looking more like party streamers than actual strands of hair. My bright blue eyes were always hidden behind gi-normous (giant and enormous combined into one compound word to stress the importance here) spectacles that magnified my eyes to three times their normal size and made them look far from appealing. And I had braces. My teeth were running over each other inside of my mouth as if they were trying to escape and I had to wear braces all the time and a retainer at night since I was ten years old. My clothes were thrift store bought or my older sister, Alice, made them, the only somewhat cool aspect of my appearance.

My self-esteem was so low that I usually didn't talk to anyone unless I had to. I had zero confidence and the dysfunction between my coordination and motor skills usually kept me on the sidelines during gym class, of which I didn't really mind one bit. I sometimes sat by myself during lunch and my only solace at school away from the awkward stares and the childish teasing was the school's clock tower. I had somehow found a way to climb up to the very top of it during my freshman year and it was a lovely place to read novels and write my sonnets. Watching the gears and odd mechanisms at work brought to me serenity and an escape from everyday problems. Besides, the view of the school's campus and surrounding residential areas from the top of the clock tower was amazingly breathtaking.

The clock tower will always hold a special place in my heart as my former place of sanctuary and as me and Will's favorite school hangout retreat, where we often shared private lunches. It was also the site of our first date where Will declared his true feelings for me.

And oh yeah, clumsy is another word that describes me. I am still as clumsy today as I was back then, always a train wreck waiting to happen. My clumsiness was the reason why I was partnered with Will during that fateful chemistry class in the first place. Instead of running away from me like most sane and normal people, Will actually liked my awkward misfortunes. I intrigued him and somehow I reeled him in with a penchant for bad luck and hilariously uncomfortable situations.

It was a Monday, a day I have come to dread the most out of the seven days of the week. The weekends were two days that were made enjoyable by the fact that I wasn't at school, one of the few places I despised intensely.

On that particular Monday, Natalie Wentworth had already teased me because she thought that my new dress made me look like a hobo. But everyone was entitled to his or her own opinion and although her clique of drama queens had laughed hysterically at her insult, I was proud of my dress and thought it made me look the opposite of a hobo. I felt like I was a princess or a member of an elite family.

I was wearing the product of another one of Alice's fashion creations. It was a white layered tulle dress with a black bow placed decoratively beneath the bosom of the dress. The dress was simple, yet beautiful. I guess it didn't help that I was wearing my purple sweater composed entirely of yarn, my straw fedora, and my beat up ancient pair of black high-top Converse All Stars.

By the time chemistry class had started after lunch, I had stowed my sweater and hat inside my backpack, which was already bursting at the seams with books for both studying and reading pleasure. I couldn't do anything to hide my shoes; I was stuck wearing them for the rest of the day.

For the first time, I was feeling really self-conscious. Like I said before I had low self-esteem and no confidence, but I had never felt so strangely insecure about myself until that day. Before, I ignored comments about my eclectic style and never had I taken them to heart. I had always been comfortable in my strange clothing and didn't care what people thought about them. Clothes did not make the person and was one of the few things about myself that could make me feel a little bit good about myself. My style was unique and was something that I never wanted to change. I had wished that my hair was silky smooth and that my glasses and braces would vanish into thin air, but I had never wished ill upon my attire.

It was as if a heavy weight had settled in my stomach or a blow had struck me hard and fast from out nowhere, catching me by surprise. I guess that all of the mockery was finally getting to me a bit. I had remained strong for so long and suddenly I was broken. The rest of the day could only get better . . . and so it did.

Chemistry class started differently that day. Normally, Mrs. Allen was already in the classroom, waiting on the students to arrive so that she could begin her pre-lab lecture, so I was shocked to not find her sitting behind her desk when I was the first person to enter Room 205. I took my normal post at one of the lab tables along the front row and watched as the rest of the class filed in behind me. Some came in groups of twos or threes, while others entered alone. Nonetheless, everyone was as shocked as I had been to find out that Mrs. Allen was not in the classroom yet.

"Maybe she's sick and we're going to get a substitute teacher today," one girl whose name I didn't know whispered to one of her friends.

"Maybe she went on an abrupt vacation or something," another student speculated. It was a boy this time—Chris—I think his name was, or maybe it was Charlie, I didn't exactly remember his name, although I was positive that Mrs. Allen had spoken it before. All I knew was that it started with a C, which made me feel worse about myself. Was I so trapped in my own little world all of the time that I didn't notice anything?

"Maybe she got fired," another boy said hopefully, grinning at his friend who was sharing a lab station with him. I couldn't remember his name either.

"I did not get fired," said a stern voice from the classroom door. The class looked over and watched as Mrs. Allen entered the room, garbed in her usual white smock that was terribly stained with substances of who knows what. "Nor did I go on vacation," Mrs. Allen added, facing the class, of which several students moaned at her appearance, "although," she continued, "I am due for a vacation this summer. I think I may not teach summer courses at the university."

Mrs. Allen was beaming, another shock. Mrs. Allen never smiled. I assumed that we would be having a very exciting lesson that day and so I sat perched on the very edge of my seat, ready to absorb Mrs. Allen's every word during her lecture.

"Before we begin for today, we have another student who will be joining our class for the rest of the semester," Mrs. Allen informed us, after the bell had rung signaling the start of fourth period. "Please welcome William Stratford. William is new here, his family . . . ."

But Mrs. Allen's voice trailed off, or at least I thought that her voice had trailed off. In reality, I didn't hear the rest of her statement because at that moment, the most gorgeous human being I had ever laid eyes on stepped into the room.

He was a light among darkness, a god among men. No other boy had ever captivated me so as much as William Stratford did. He was my first crush and he was my first love and I was sure of that in an instant.

It was love at first sight for me. I had been struck by Cupid's arrow or I had willingly taken a sip of Puck's love potion. My heart was thumping madly in my chest and I was sweating. It was like someone had turned up the temperature of the classroom and now I was hyperventilating.

I needed some fresh air. I needed to break free from the sudden sweltering heat but I couldn't move. I was frozen in my chair as though someone had glued me to it. I couldn't take my eyes off of him. He was a tall, dark and handsome magnet and I was the oddly shaped piece of metal that was attracted to him.

And I wasn't the only one either. I could tell that the eyes of the other dozen or so girls were also upon William, or Will as I learned later that he liked to be called, without even looking around at them. Will was one of those guys who could light up a room with his presence.

I started fanning myself with my spiral notebook as I gawked at Will. He strode into the classroom at Mrs. Allen's command with more confidence than I would ever possess in a lifetime, carrying only a notebook and a tattered old chemistry book. He halted next to Mrs. Allen and faced the class, running his free hand through his messy—but messy in a cool way—dark brown hair.

He resembled a rockstar—the cute, clean, wholesome ones and not the cute, but dirty, badboy ones. His messy hair was all over the place, longer on the sides, but not greasy, and the hairstyle suited him well. His eyes were perhaps his best features. They were warm and inviting and were the bait that captured my heart in an instant. They were green, brilliantly and vividly green, sparkling and shimmering like emerald encrusted jewels. His skin was dark, an almost olive color, and his physical physique was well defined. Subtle, but toned arm muscles peeked out from beneath his collared polo shirt. His face was chiseled and his lips were palely pink and . . . kissable.

I nearly fell out of my seat at such a thought. I had never thought about kissing a boy, but suddenly I was longing for just one kiss from Will. It was like a scene out of a fairy tale or something of that nature.

Slowly, my heartbeat returned to normal and my breathing regulated. Mrs. Allen had been addressing the class for the past couple of minutes and I hadn't heard a word she had said. As my body temperature decreased as well, I heard Mrs. Allen say something about Will needing a lab partner and that I was the only person in the class who was without one.

Wait a second . . . Mrs. Allen wanted Will to be my partner for today's lesson? My lab partner? I couldn't believe my luck. And so, I started hyperventilating again.

Will made his way over towards me and I was lost in his gaze. Several girls protested with Mrs. Allen, wanting to be Will's lab partner; however, fate had already been sealed. Will and I were destined to be lab partners, if I managed to prevent myself from puking all over the place. I was suddenly feeling very, very queasy.

Will arrived at my table and sat down next to me. He was so close to me that I could smell him. And he smelled wonderful. His scent reminded me of the beach; it was sweet and pleasant, yet salty and outdoorsy.

I wanted more than anything to look at him and touch him since he was so close, but my eyes darted away from him nervously. He was a little too close to ogle without me going into cardiac arrest. And then, he spoke, just as Mrs. Allen was beginning her lesson.

"Hey, your name is Anne, right?" he asked me, holding out a hand for me to shake. He was so nice and I couldn't believe that he was actually talking to me. No one ever talked to me at school unless they had something bad to say. And his voice was . . . perfect. He talked with a slight accent as well. I couldn't quite place my finger on it, but I assumed it was British, perhaps. "I'm Will, Will Stratford." He introduced himself, even though I already knew his name because Mrs. Allen had introduced him formally to the class earlier. What surprised me was that he knew my name. The only possible explanation for this was that Mrs. Allen must have mentioned my name when she assigned Will to be my lab partner.

I nodded, lost for words. My pulse was going at an insane speed now. I felt dizzy. Tentatively, I reached out a hand to shake Will's hand, while praying desperately for my stomach to stop churning so I wouldn't throw up on this handsome angel of a man. I quickly shook Will's hand and then I dropped my eyes away from him, staring absently down at the tabletop. I had tried to say, "Nice to meet you," but the words just didn't want to come out.

Will didn't seem to care much. After shaking my hand, he turned to listen to Mrs. Allen's lecture, jotting down notes into his notebook. I should have been taking notes too, or at least listening, but I couldn't. I was trying to calm myself down. I was still very warm and my heart was thumping so hard in my chest that I was positive that Will could hear it.

Occasionally, I could see Will glancing over at me out of the corner of my eyes, concern plainly etched across his adoring face.

I tried several times to look at him and tell him somehow silently that I was okay, but I failed miserably each time. The truth was that I was _not_ okay and if I looked up into Will's face at such a short distance away from each other, who knows what might happen? If I didn't regurgitate my lunch, then I might try to kiss him.

Breathing heavily, I placed my hands on the tabletop, bracing myself as my stomach gave another lurch.

Suddenly, one of Will's hands found one of my hands. It was a soft and gentle touch that sent my insides careening upside-down. "Are you all right?" his perfect voice asked me. "You don't look so good."

That was all it took. I snatched my hand out from under Will's hand and stood up. Curious eyes turned away from Mrs. Allen and towards me, but I didn't care about any of them. Sick to my stomach, I darted for the classroom exit, covering my mouth as I ran. Mrs. Allen stopped her lecture and asked me what was going on. I didn't reply. I just ran from the room, leaving behind a roar of laughter from my classmates. I'm sure that Natalie Wentworth was one of those who had snickered.

I vomited in the restroom for several minutes, losing the majority if not all of my lunch. Then, I went to wash my hands at one of the sinks, feeling much better all of a sudden. I stared at my pitiful reflection in the mirror and wondered why something so beautiful as Will had caused me to be sick. If he was going to end up being my lab partner for the rest of the semester, then I would have to stop feeling nauseated whenever I looked at him or whenever he touched me.

I looked down at my hand. I still couldn't believe that he had touched me. My heart fluttered. I was getting excited and I felt weird. I wasn't feeling sick, thank God, but I was feeling something else, something that I would never be able to formulate into words. However, one word could describe the feeling accurately.

Love.

I was in love.

I was in love with Will Stratford.

It was amazing. I had never known what it was like to feel this way. Besides the puking, I could get used to feeling this way even if Will didn't return the favor. He was so nice and kind to me and that was all that mattered.

I returned to class, embarrassed from running from the room and wondering what Will would think of me. I popped a stick of gum in my mouth. At least I won't have bad breath while we completed our lab together.

Mrs. Allen was walking about the classroom, giving out additional instructions and information about today's assignment or answering the many questions that her students could formulate over the course of the next hour. She looked over at me as I shuffled over to join Will and she approached me. I groaned silently.

"Anne, are you feeling sick?" Mrs. Allen said loudly before she reached me. Behind her, several students snickered. "If so, then you need to go and see the school nurse."

"I'm fine," I managed to choke out, snatching up a lab apron and a pair of goggles that were hanging in a tiny cupboard-like closet next to the lab station that I now shared with Will.

"Are you sure?" Mrs. Allen was persistent.

_Just leave me alone_, I thought to myself. I was already embarrassed enough without Mrs. Allen concerned questions.

I nodded and managed a very feeble smile. "I'm fine," I repeated just as weakly as my smile had been.

Mrs. Allen stared at me for a moment as I put on my apron and goggles, and then she shuffled off, continuing her pacing in between the tables.

Taking a deep and steadying breath, hoping that I would be able to remain calm, I walked over to Will.

He was standing there like a dazzling statue, staring down at the contents atop the lab station. Even in a silly apron and goggles, he was stunning. My heart skipped a beat and I adjusted my goggles around my glasses and wiping them clean as they started to fog for some strange reason.

Will looked up at me when I arrived and my knees buckled. I tried to keep as much space between the two of us as possible.

"Welcome back, Anne," he flashed a sparkling smile. "You feeling all right now?"

I nodded but didn't say anything and Will continued to smile.

"We've got an interesting lesson ahead of us for today," Will informed me. The smile had faded from his face but I could feel the excitement that was radiating from him. "I've already done the pre-lab stuff for you. Now, it is time for the fun to begin."

"Th-thanks," I said to him, at long last finding my voice and speaking to him, even though I had stuttered terribly.

"No problem," Will said. "And all of the answers should be right, I think. You can double-check them if you want to."

I shook my head, trying not to look him directly in the eyes because of my fear of nausea. "I . . . I trust you."

Will smiled again. "That's right, you can trust me."

_You can trust me . . . ._

Those four golden words became Will's catch phrase in our relationship.

Whenever I asked him his opinion about anything, he would give it and then tell me immediately thereafter that I can trust him. Will always spoke the truth and I didn't think that he knew how to lie at all. Every word that he spoke to me was flawless, so flawless that I would do anything that he told me to do because I knew that I could trust him with my life and that he would never lead me astray. Forget the whole jumping off a bridge thing. I would so do it if Will told me to because I know that he has a valid reason for telling me to do so and that taking such a plunge would not harm me but rather keep me safe.

Alice claims that it is because I am so in love with Will that I trust him so much. Maybe that is true but I feel that I would still feel that way even if I weren't head over heels for this boy. And isn't that what true love is supposed to be about anyway? I always imagined the perfect relationship as being a relationship where both parties trusted each other unconditionally with love and mutual attraction being added bonuses.

When Will first declared his love for me, he had said those four magic words. Of course, this didn't take place immediately after I first met him in chemistry class. It took a couple of months before Will finally admitted it, although he claims to this day that I started liking me during that fateful class together. I want to find that hard to believe but I trust him so much.

Over the next few months, just being around Will for the two hour chemistry class evoked a change within me. I became a much more social human being. I started making friends at school. I was still not apart of the popular crowd yet but it was a start.

Will was such a likable person that just being around him caused people to suddenly like me. I actually ate lunch in the cafeteria now and spent less time up in the clock tower. I participated in gym class, although it was a catastrophe to watch me shoot a basketball or attempt to hit a wiffle ball.

Even with Will around, I still had enemies. Natalie Wentworth and her posse made fun of my outfits on nearly a day-to-day basis but I didn't care. After allowing Natalie to get under my skin that one time, I vowed to never allow that to happen again. I adored my clothes and there was nothing that Natalie or her friends could say about them that would upset me.

Yet, deep down inside, I desperately wanted a change. I secretly wanted to makeover my physical appearance. At first, I wanted to do so because I wanted Will to notice me on more than just a friend level but soon my desires became deeper than that. What I desired most, besides Will's love of course, was confidence. I didn't want to look pretty to be popular or to become the eye candy of the all of the sophomore boys. I wanted to look and _feel_ pretty because I wanted a higher self-esteem, to boost my confidence, and to feel great about myself and not just about the idiosyncratic outfits I was always wearing.

Three weeks after meeting Will, I went to the orthodontist to have my braces removed after five years. This simple visit was what truly sparked my interest in receiving a makeover. With my braces finally gone, I realized how beautiful my smile could be without metal running across them like railroad tracks.

If my smile could be beautiful, then that meant that I could be beautiful in more ways than that.

I started with my hair. Alice set up me an appointment with a local beauty salon, and the woman who styled my hair chopped off so much of it that I thought I was going to cry. The reason for this was because the stylist felt that I had way too many split ends. When the cutting process, along with the washing and styling processes, was complete, I was left with a much shorter haircut. But I liked it. Although my hair barely came down to my shoulders now, it was glossy blond now and light seemed to bounce off of it in radiant streaks.

After some tips from the hairdresser, it was off to visit the eye doctor for a new pair of glasses and contacts. I wanted my new glasses to be as thin as possible. The black-rimmed spectacles were popular among young people and although I did not promote conformity, I couldn't help but to admit that I liked how one particular pair of black-rimmed glasses looked on my face. It had the right feel as well; I couldn't deny that. So I ordered a pair of those particular glasses, which would arrive in about a week. But I had a trial pair of contacts at my disposal until my glasses arrived and I purchased an entire box of contact lenses the week after—the eye doctor wanted me to wear the trial contacts for a few days to make sure that I liked them. I just didn't realize how difficult it would be to wear contacts.

It took me nearly an hour to force them into my eyes the following morning. I was already excited, more than ready to show off my new look at school. My hands shook so terribly that I dropped my contacts several times on the floor and had to use a magnifying glass just to be able to locate the clear lens. I used up about half of a trial bottle of saline solution just rinsing my contacts off after I dropped them. Luckily, I had woken up that morning two hours normally than usual so I wasn't late to school.

Alice had made me a new dress for the occasion. It was a blue silk tee dress with a lace trim insert. I had a brown belt and matching boots to complement the dress perfectly. Alice was amazed when I appeared that morning for breakfast. Although, my makeover had cost us a lot of money that we didn't really have, she thought I looked as beautiful as our mother had been.

I rode the bus to school after Alice forced me to take a few pictures and after I promised her that I would try to find a job when I was old enough to pay her back for all that she has done for me since the tragedy that we have come to speak of as simply "the accident". Alice was not only my caregiver and my older sister, but she was also my best friend. Before Will came along, I had no one. She was all I had and I would do anything for her.

The bus ride to school was . . . well, it was different than before to say the least. No one talked to me like usual; however, everyone was gawking at me. After a while, I found it quite annoying, especially when the whispers started. So, I stared out the window and tried to ignore them. It was difficult. I was not used to this and wondered if this was what popular kids had to endure on a day-to-day basis. I was used to being ignored unless someone wanted a laugh at my expense and now, I was suddenly the center of attention.

School was worse, but not necessarily in a negative way either. When I arrived and walked down the hallway to my locker, students stared at me like they did on the bus. Most were amazed, which made me feel somewhat good about my makeover, while others asked me strange questions like "Is that your real hair?" or "Are you wearing makeup?"

I was pretty much a big deal, although I didn't really want to be. It seemed like the entire school was talking about me. Everywhere I went, the whispers seemed to follow me like my own shadow. During lunch, I was invited to eat with a group of seniors who wanted to know how I managed to pull off such a spectacular feat. I answered all of their questions half-heartedly, while glancing around the cafeteria and hoping that I would get to see Will before chemistry class. Sometimes, his weight training class dismissed for lunch early and I got the opportunity to see him on rare occasions when I was returning to math class. I hoped that the coaches would let him out early that day so he could see the surprise that I had for him before we entered Mrs. Allen's class but of course, it didn't happen. By the end of algebra, I was very excited, but also very, very, _very _nervous. It felt like that first day all over again and I wanted to puke. The only thing different was that anticipation was present this time around and I didn't know that I could handle it. I was shaking as though I was having convulsions and I felt like I could faint at any moment.

I wasn't the first to arrive to chemistry class that day. I had spent the first few minutes after class, cooling myself off in the restrooms. I looked at my self in the mirror and was momentarily shock for the change in my reflection, only to remember soon thereafter that I had altered a lot about my appearance over the last few days.

I stared at myself and right then and there, I truly asked myself if I had done this to myself for the right reasons or just to impress a boy, who already liked me for me—as a friend, anyway. A voice in my head told myself that I had done it for Will, but my heart told me differently. My heart told me that I had done it for myself and that winning Will's heart was not determined by just my new looks. It would take more than that. If I wanted Will, now was the time to get him. I couldn't hold back. It was only a matter of time before he found someone special.

But what if he had already found someone he liked and they were already dating? The voice in my head had asked me that question, arguing with what my heart was saying and playing devil's advocate. If so, then I was too late. I would have to settle for friendship, something that I was positive I couldn't just accept easily. With Will, I wanted more. I connected on a certain level with him that I had never connected with anyone before.

He hasn't found anyone yet, my heart argued. He would have told you by now . . . .

But what if he didn't want to tell anyone yet . . . .

Don't worry about it, Anne. If it was meant to be, then it was meant to be . . . .

I walked into chemistry class with as much poise and confidence I could muster. My confidence reserves were still pretty low—I hadn't built them up tremendously yet—but I think my entrance was fairly decent. Heads turned and people gossiped about me. Will was not there yet and I was thankful. But what I was not grateful for was the fact that Natalie and her friends were already there and they were watching me. Well, Natalie's friends were watching me. Natalie was actually _glaring _at me with a look of seething contempt. I busied myself with doodling in my notebook to keep from looking over at them. I waited for Natalie to make a comment, knowing that she would and wondering what she would say.

"I don't believe it," Natalie's voice rang out across the classroom seconds later. I realized a moment too late that Mrs. Allen wasn't in the classroom yet either. This was only the second time that it had happened and it had happen on such a day as that one. How convenient . . . .

There was silence and Natalie seemed to enjoy the silence for a while before continuing.

"I don't believe it," Natalie repeated, her voice dripping with something foul. "Anne Hathaway has finally learned to comb her hair."

The laughter came then. I blushed, but I held my head high, ignoring the gale of laughter. My eyes were staring down at my notebook, following the pencil strokes that I was making on the page. I would ignore them. I would ignore them all. Will would be here soon with Mrs. Allen and everything would be okay then. I had to endure the temporary torture. It would all be over soon. I wondered, apprehensively, what Will would think about my new look.

The laughter subsided, but Natalie's taunts didn't.

"And look, she is not wearing her dorky glasses anymore; an improvement," Natalie continued. "But her clothes are still the same. They are just as hideous as they were before. I mean, where does she find them? The trash dumpsters out back behind Target?"

More cackles of laughter. My face turned a nasty shade of red and my free hand balled into a fist. I was utterly embarrassed. Natalie had never taken her jeering this far before. It was usually easy for me to ignore her but it was growing harder and harder with every harsh word she uttered. Natalie was just jealous of me, that's all. She was jealous that for once, the people in class were paying more attention to me than her, and she wanted to win them back by making me feel inferior.

I drummed on the lab bench impatiently now, no longer able to doodle. Hurry up Will, I pleaded silently. Come and rescue me.

"You know why she did it, don't you?" Natalie was asking those around her, as the giggles died down a second time. "She's trying to impress Will. She actually thinks that she has a chance with him, but why would he want her? Just cause he tolerates her, it doesn't mean that he likes her. Just because she got a haircut and loss her glasses and braces doesn't mean that she is no longer a freak. Once a freak, always a—"

SCREEEEECH!

That was the sound of my stool legs skidding across the floor as I stood up, shaking with fury now. That was it. I had had it. I couldn't take it anymore. Natalie Wentworth had gone too far this time, way too far, and I would teach her a lesson. But what would I do? Would I hit her? I considered that option in the split-second that it took for me to cross the classroom in a couple of swift strides. I was definitely angry enough to strike Natalie, but I knew that I couldn't. I didn't need to be suspended from school from fighting and what would Alice think of me then? What about Will? Besides, that was what Natalie wanted. With me gone from school for a week, it would be just enough time for her to win Will over. I knew that she wanted him as badly as I wanted him. I could tell by the way she looked at him whenever he was in her presence.

Would I yell at her? That was option number two and an option that I was most likely to take, although I couldn't stop picturing myself slapping the crap out of Natalie.

I stopped inches away from her and glowered at her, my eyes narrowed to slits. No one said a word. Everyone was waiting to hear what I had to say to Natalie, who I noticed was cowering in fear in her seat. She hadn't expected this. I had the upper hand and I took it and grasped it firmly.

"What is your problem?" I asked Natalie through gritted teeth. "What is your freaking problem?"

Natalie tried to shrug casually as if she didn't know what I was talking about in response to my rhetorical questions. I didn't wait for her to say a word. I thundered on.

"I have never done anything to you and yet, you always criticize me for no reason at all! So what if my hair used to look terrible and now it is styled to my liking. So what if I used to wear huge, dorky glasses and braces on my teeth. I liked myself then and I like myself now without them. So what if I wear secondhand clothes or the dresses that my sister makes for me. To you, I may look like a homeless person or whatever, but in my own eyes I think I look ravishing. My style is unique and it will never change for anyone. And so what if I have a crush on Will Stratford. He is my friend and I care about him in a way that you can never understand because you are such a vile and hateful person. Will likes me the way that I am, makeover or not. Why can't you feel the same way?"

Natalie didn't respond. She just sat there gaping at me. I swallowed hard. I hadn't meant to say that last statement about Will. It had kind of just slipped out and now most of the class knew of my true feelings for him. I would have groaned if I hadn't been breathing so hard and if I hadn't spotted one of Natalie's close friends looking at me with a smile on her face. It wasn't a smirk but an actually smile. It was genuine and warm. Her name was Melody Fischer and after I stood up to Natalie, she became my new best friend.

Since Natalie had nothing to say, I stomped away to minute applause, and even some smiles. Natalie was thunderstruck and I was proud of myself. But then, I froze about halfway to my seat. I looked up. Will was standing next to our lab station. He was watching me with a passive look on his face and a thought struck me hard and fast. Will had seen and heard everything that I had said to Natalie and I wanted more than anything to be anywhere but there at the moment.

Slowly, Will's face broke into a smile. He grinned broadly at me and I watched him, lingering there on the spot and almost dying to hear what he had to say about my makeover and about me telling off Natalie, while inadvertently revealing to him that I liked him. The truth was out now and I was beginning to feel very numb.

"Hey, Anne," Will greeted me, still smiling as he looked me up and down from head to toe. My heart danced around inside my chest and I felt suddenly exposed while in the direct line of his gaze. It was as if Will was seeing me for the first time ever.

I waved at him silently but couldn't speak. I was completely lost from words, still waiting for a critique that would surely come.

"You look different today," Will said. "I almost didn't recognize you."

I smiled. I couldn't help it. He was so adorable.

"But why the change?" Will questioned me curiously. "You looked fine the way you were." He cleared his throat then, embarrassed. "I mean, not that you don't look fine now because you are absolutely gorgeous, but why the sudden change?"

I couldn't believe it. Will thought that I was gorgeous. My heart banged around now, continuing to dance around my chest. I think that it was waltzing now.

I tried to be as relaxed as I could with my response. "I just wanted something different," I told Will, which was mostly the truth.

"Well, I think you look beautiful," Will told me. "And I also liked the way that you used to look too. You were just as beautiful as you were now."

And suddenly, I felt as if I was floating in the air, high above the clouds. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Will thought that I was beautiful before too. This just couldn't be real. I was dreaming, I just had to be.

Before I could get used to floating in the clouds, I had to come back down to earth. Mrs. Allen walked in before Will and I could say anything more to each other and we were forced to remain quiet for about a half and hour while she did her pre-lab lecture. Afterwards, we were free to work on our lab and free to chat.

Mostly, we talked about me going off on Natalie and how Will thought it was amazing how someone had finally stood up to her. What amazed me was that I was the person who had done so, as I voiced openly to Will while we checked our solutions for acidity. It was a huge feat for me and I felt good about it. It was like a release of built up tension. I felt elated and overjoyed, as though I had accomplished something impossible.

Towards the end of the lesson when I was focused on finishing before the bell rung, I caught Will staring at me out of my peripheral vision. I tried to ignore his gaze but when it became too much, I looked at him and smiled nervously. He continued to stare and I started to sweat.

"What?" I asked him, grinning. I liked his stare, I really did, but it was making me so nervous that I couldn't write down the answers to my lab questions.

"Nothing," Will told me and I knew that he was telling a fib. He was holding back something that he wanted to tell me; I could hear that much in the tone of voice that he had elected to use.

"What?" I repeated, not buying his lie. He wasn't very good at lying. On the contrary, he was very good at telling the truth.

"Don't worry about it right now," Will told me kindly. "We'll talk about it later."

Trying to figure out what "it" was that he wanted to talk about, I told him, "I'll call you tonight." Those words sounded sweet coming from my mouth. I had almost forgotten that I had Will's phone number. He had mine too and the only few times that we had talked on the phone, he had called me to discuss schoolwork.

Will shook his head. "No, we'll talk in person," he said and I instantly complied, lost in those beautiful green eyes of his. "What are you doing tomorrow after school?"

I thought for a moment. Of course, I was doing nothing. I had no life.

And then, it struck me.

Was Will asking me out on a date?

I knew that he hadn't exactly formulated such words quite yet, but why else would he suddenly take an interest into what I was doing tomorrow after school?

"Going home," I answered truthfully, anxiously awaiting his response to that.

"Well then, why don't you hang around for a while instead of riding the bus home? We can talk after I pick up my costumes for the play and then, I'll make sure that you get home safely."

Three weeks into starting a new school, Will had won the lead role in the Drama Club's upcoming stage production of Hamlet, much to the dismay of the other guys who had auditioned for the part. He was a natural with Shakespeare and could quote more lines than I could, which made me slightly jealous. He had won the theatre teacher over with his near-perfect portrayal of Hamlet and his response to how he could easily assume such a complex role so easily was simple: "I feel like Hamlet and I are pretty good friends."

"Sure," I agreed to Will's proposition, which wasn't the type of date I was expecting—I was expecting dinner and a movie, or a romantic stroll through the park—but a date nonetheless. I was dying to know what he wanted to tell me and I would do almost anything just to get him to tell me what was on his mind. "You won't be long will you?"

Will promised me that he wouldn't take long to get his costumes and we barely managed to finish our lab right before the bell rung.

All in all, my first day with my new look wasn't too terrible. If I ignored the gawks and the gossips, it was actually a pretty good day. Nothing was better than the feeling that I had received from standing up to Natalie Wentworth after years and years of torment. And nothing was better than Will liking my makeover, but also telling me that I was just as beautiful before. I almost went back to wearing my old glasses and getting my braces put back on just for him. Also, he had something to tell me and it seemed really important for him not to tell me right then and there while we were in class.

And oh yeah, we kind of had a date the next day.

Wondering what Will had to reveal to me tomorrow afternoon had me on edge for the rest of the day and the following morning. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't eat and I changed my outfit that I was wearing that day about five times before I settled on my floral stretch-poplin dress that was trimmed in red and decorated with rose floral prints.

Content with what I was wearing, I said bye to Alice and headed for the bus stop about ten minutes earlier than usual and without eating breakfast.

Melody Fischer rode my bus and she arrived a few minutes after I did, wearing a friendly smile on her face. For some reason, I got the feeling that she had been staring out of her apartment window, waiting for me to arrive at the bus stop. At any rate, she waved at me and I waved back at her uneasily. After all, Melody was still in Natalie's inner circle at that time and I was curious to know why she had waved at me for the first time ever—we had rode the same bus for the past five years.

Then, Melody did something that she had never done before: She spoke to me.

"Good morning, Anne." Those words shocked me so much that it forced my thoughts away from the looming conversation "date" with Will.

_What . . . the . . . heck? _My mind thought. I was bewildered. I couldn't believe it. Melody Fischer was actually speaking to me? I even looked over my shoulder to make sure that we were alone on the sidewalk. No one was with us. Melody had addressed me. She had even said my name.

I cleared my throat and suppressed the shock. "Hey," I said shortly, wondering what was going on. Was there something in the air that made Melody choose today of all days to finally say something to me?

Silence prevailed afterwards and I could tell that Melody was thinking of more to say. We had never had a conversation before and this was new for the both of us.

"Um," Melody began again and then, hesitated. "Um, I . . . I just wanted to tell you that I think that you were . . . uh, brave for what you did in chemistry class yesterday. I've been waiting for someone to tell Natalie how horrible of a person she is."

I was stunned. "But Natalie is your best friend," I said, reminding Melody of that fact.

"_Was _my best friend," Melody corrected me. "It took what you did for me to realize that I didn't want to be friends with Natalie anymore."

Was this a joke? But Melody seemed so sincere.

I smiled lightly but was unsure if she was playing a joke on me, although like I said earlier, she sounded rather sincere about her feelings towards Natalie. "Glad I could help," I told her.

"And . . . sorry that I ignored you all of these years," Melody apologized. She was just so full of surprises this morning.

"It's okay," I said. "I like it that way anyways."

Melody looked hurt and it took me a few seconds to realize what I had just said. Color filled my face. I could feel it rising in my cheeks as sheer embarrassment kicked into high gear.

"I am so sorry, Melody," I said quickly. "I didn't mean it like that. I—"

But Melody smiled and cut me off in mid-sentence. "Don't worry about it. I probably deserve worse than that."

"No, you don't deserve that," I said. "I would like for you to talk to me. You don't have to ignore me if you don't want to anymore."

Melody beamed.

Melody sat with me on the bus. Riding to school we talked about various topics, such as what it is like to hang out with Natalie Wentworth, who wasn't as popular as she self-proclaimed herself to be. This made me giggle, especially when Melody told me that Natalie was in a spot of trouble with some junior girls. Apparently, Natalie was going around telling everyone that she would be named cheerleading captain next year, even though she would be a junior and the current juniors were ticked off because one of the four of them should be a sure-in next year since they were the most experienced veterans. We even talked about my quirky style. Melody revealed to me then that she had always liked some of the clothes that I wore and that she could see them catching on as a trend at school now that I was becoming more popular.

But I didn't want to become popular. If Melody and I were to have more chit-chats on the bus then I was going to have to stop her from talking about popularity and things of that nature. I guess once a popular inner circle girl, always a popular inner circle girl at heart, even though you're not as popular anymore and the inner circle no longer includes you, which is what happened to Melody. You see, that's the thing I hate about popularity contests and blah, blah, blah. One day you can have it all—the trends, the popularity, the star quarterback, the crowd of devoted followers—and then the next day, it could be gone. Poof, just like that and then you are nothing, a nobody. You may even get ignored and then you may know what it feels like to be apart of the social high school hierarchy that you used to despise. Of course, one can climb the ladder of popularity if he or she so desired, but it is a lot harder than falling off of the ladder.

My mind returned to Will when we arrived at school. Melody wanted to eat lunch together since our classes went around the same time, so we could continue our bus discussions. I promised her that I would meet her in the cafeteria and it was off to class.

With me thinking about what Will had to tell me again, classes went by in a flash. The first few periods were over so quickly that I was surprised that I was already eating lunch at a somewhat secluded table in the cafeteria with Melody Fischer. People gawked at us, of course, but after the previous day I was pretty much used to such attention. And I nearly laughed when Natalie and her remaining entourage entered the cafeteria. Natalie was staring daggers at Melody and me, unable to believe her own eyes.

"Natalie is furious at me for jumping ship," Melody informed me, as if I couldn't already tell from the looks she was giving us. "Yesterday, she was plotting revenge against you and I told her that I would not be a part of it."

"Thank you," I told her, before biting into my pizza slice.

Next up, after lunch, was chemistry, the class I had been dreading all day because Will would be there. But chemistry wasn't as bas as I thought it was going to be. Not only did it pass by quickly, but Will and I was able to work on our lab and talk like usual. Every now and again, I would drop subtle hints or flat out ask Will to tell me what he had to tell me, but of course, he wouldn't.

Towards the end of the lesson, Melody joined us at our lab station as a third member. Apparently, Natalie and company wasn't allowing her to help steam the smelly cabbages to make litmus paper for our pH testing for next class and were acting awful towards her, so Melody decided to ask us for permission to join our table. I told her that it was okay and after class, Mrs. Allen approved for Melody to work with Will and I for the rest of the semester. Although, I would rather keep Will to myself, I didn't mind. It would give me the opportunity to get to know Melody better and any opportunity like that was always a welcomed one since we were quickly advancing to friend level.

After chemistry, my nerves were shot. The anxiety was too much that I had to leave my last class for the day—Literature—for a while just to step outside and get some fresh air.

By the time the final bell had signaled, indicating it was dismissal time, I stayed in my seat for several minutes, waiting and giving Will a slight head start. When I could no longer sit still, I gathered up my belongings and headed for the Performance Arts Building.

I waited in the lobby, fidgeting in my chair so much that I started pacing.

Most of the students who were going to be in the play were already there. I could hear laughing and talking coming from the auditorium. Will had to be one of them because several students arrived after I did and he wasn't one of them.

I paced back and forth across the lobby, my eyes constantly darting down to look at my watch. The minutes seemed to tick by slowly now. Apprehension overpowered me. It felt like ages before Will emerged from the auditorium carrying a garment bag and talking to a few of the guys who was to star in the play with him, when only about ten minutes had lapsed since my arrival. Will spotted me at once and smiled. I stopped pacing and smiled back. My heart did a couple of cartwheels.

Will said farewell to his buddies and walked over to me. He was as beautiful in motion as he was when he was sitting still next to me in chemistry class and I couldn't take my eyes off of him. Tall, dark, and handsome, a lovely combination. His green eyes twinkled as he continued to smile at me.

"Anne, you're here," Will said by way of greeting, his tone ecstatic. He hadn't asked it as a question, yet I could detect a little hint of surprise in his voice as though he had been expecting me to back out of our date.

No way, Will Stratford, would I ever miss a date with you. Not in this lifetime.

I grinned. "What, you didn't think that I would come?"

Will blushed; it was cute. "Honestly, I didn't think that you would want to hang out with me," he said truthfully. I told you that he couldn't lie. "But then again, you are curious to find out what I wanted to discuss with you and part of me knew, as well as hoped, that your intrigue would bring you here this afternoon."

I was flattered. "Well, I am here. Intrigue or no intrigue, I would never miss the chance to see you."

Will smiled then in a way that I had never seen him smile before and that smile became my favorite smile. It was a smile so big and bright that it reached his eyes too. Combine his smile with his eyes and I was head over heels each time it happened.

"So then, I guess that you would like for me to tell you what is on my mind," he said.

I nodded but then, suddenly, I had an idea.

"But wait before you tell me, I want to show you something."

Will followed me out of the building and back towards the center of campus. He was the one who was now curious, asking me where I was taking him. My response was that it was a surprise and that he would find out soon enough.

Climbing up to the top of the clock tower was tricky but if I could do it, I knew that Will could do it as well.

I entered the clock tower through the unlocked door at the bottom and Will followed me through.

"What are we doing here?" he asked me, inquiringly.

"You'll see," I promised him, looking back into his gorgeous face. "And you might want to leave your costume down here," I suggested. "The climb up will be tough enough without you trying to hold on to your garment bag."

Will cocked an eyebrow. "The climb up?"

I laughed and prepared to climb up, feeling bold all of a sudden, even though I did this all the time. Slowly, the anxiety was ebbing, washing away as I prepared to enter my safe haven.

"Follow me," I told Will.

Will nodded, more than ready for the brief adventure. He found a place to stow his garment bag and watched me as I initiated the first climb. Then, he followed without delay and with ease.

To reach the top of the clock tower one had to first climb up into a tiny alcove that was just big enough for two normal people to stand inside. The next step was to shimmy around to a small flight of broken steps. At the top of the stairs was a ladder that somehow could extend all the way to the apex of the tower but I could never figure out how to work it while balanced precariously upon the topmost—and most broken—step. The ladder in its current position led up to another alcove. A few minutes of shimmying later and I could then climb up to a platform where there was circular staircase. Climbing the circular staircase brought me to another unlocked door and through the door was my destination.

Will entered behind me and was instantly blown away by the inside of the clock tower. Up above our heads, the gigantic clock worked with a turning of gears and strange noises to keep up with the forever changing time. But what really took Will's breath away were not the workings of the clock, but the view that could be seen from the openings below the clock face where we were presently standing.

"It's so peaceful up here," Will commented, staring out at the panoramic view of the city. "Do you come up here often?"

"As often as I can," I told him, glad that he was appreciating the view as much as I did.

"How did you ever find out about this place?"

I shrugged. "I was bored one day and I tried the door downstairs and learned that it was unlocked. It took me several days of observing and mastering my fear before I was able to figure out how to climb up here and once I was up here the first time, the view was enough to make me want to stay up here forever."

"I see what you mean," Will told me. "It is so picturesque, so serene." Then, he looked at me suddenly and I faced him without any pangs of nervousness. "But beautiful as it may be, Anne, it doesn't even compare to you."

My ears burned pleasantly, longing to hear Will say those words again. Where had the sudden change in topic come from? And did he just say what I thought he had just said? The words had come so unexpectedly that I wasn't entirely sure.

"I can't hold back anymore, Anne," Will continued and I allowed him to speak without interruption. His words were like music to my ears—sweet melodies and catchy rhythms. "I have only known you for about three weeks; however, it feels like I have known you for a lifetime. I have enjoyed the time that we have spent together in class and I would like to take it one step farther. I like you Anne, I really do. And I would like the opportunity to get to know you better so that one day, I may come to love you."

I had been struck by lightning. That was it and now I was dead. This must be what Heaven feels like. I was standing in the school's clock tower, my most favorite place in the entire world, and Will Stratford had just told me that he likes me. My wildest dreams were coming true. It was almost too good to be real. I felt like I was floating . . . .

"You do?" I couldn't help but to be skeptical, although I knew that trustworthy Will would never lie to me. "You really like _me_?" Emphasis on the "me" because out of all of the many girls at school, he chose _me _of all people.

Will nodded. "Trust me, Anne, I truly, truly, like you. You are not like other girls. You intrigue me. You are a beautiful person inside and out and I would be honored if I could court you."

That was when Will had declared his love for me. That was when we had had our first date. Of course, Will had asked me out in a strange way but the meaning was just the same as if he had said "Will you go out with me?"

And I said yes. I would have been a fool to reject him, a liar if you please. The next day and for the next few months, the school would be buzzing about the fact that Will Stratford and Anne Hathaway were dating. It would take me some while to get used to being recognize, used to the jealousy of other girls who liked Will, but there was one thing that I could never get used to—being Will's girlfriend.

Even a year later it felt as though I was forever in a dream. I just couldn't believe that I was with Will Stratford. The hottest guy at school had fallen for me. I had found my Prince Charming quite by accident and misfortune. And I was loving every moment of it. Maybe fairy tales did exist in the real world.

Maybe. For I felt that nothing could destroy the love that I had for Will Stratford, the guy of my dreams and the boyfriend who could not lie.

Fast forward to the present a little more than a year later after Will had asked me out.

It was late at night on a Thursday, around Midnight, and Alice and I were sitting in the tiny living room of our apartment watching William Shakespeare's _Romeo and Juliet_, the movie version that starred Claire Danes and Leonardo DiCaprio. We had watched the one with Olivia Hussey the previous night and were comparing the similarities and differences between the two films.

Alice was as much of a fan of Shakespeare as I was and she loved every movie that was ever made from a Shakespearean play. I didn't particularly like the movies, especially when the directors changed the stories so much; however, I liked this version of _Romeo and Juliet_—or should I say _Romeo + Juliet_—by Baz Luhrmann because it was a modern twist of the tale that retained the original lines from the play. It was a masterpiece and I loved how the guns were called swords.

The end of the movie came quick and I was so tired that I had sadly missed most of it. I had zoned out, reflecting on my life, as I liked to do often. Will was on my mind and so, I was thinking about that special moment when we had first started dating.

I was so far in the past that I didn't even notice that the movie was over and that Alice had turned off the television when the closing credits started rolling.

I snapped out of my trance, temporarily confused, until I remembered crazed Romeo chasing Tybalt through the streets of Verona Beach. I was suddenly mad at myself for missing the ending. I would have to rent the movie later to pick up where I had left off. Or maybe I would just buy it to add it to my small, but amazing, movie collection. It would be a worthy addition.

I also barely noticed Alice yawning before she said, "I think that I am going to bed. I have a presentation in class tomorrow."

"Okay," I said, standing up and stretching. Her yawn was contagious and I yawned too. "Good night, Alice."

"Good night, Anne," Alice said, already heading for her bedroom on the other side of the kitchen. "I'm making waffles in the morning if you want some."

I smiled. Waffles in the morning were always a good start to any day. "Of course, I'll be in the kitchen at seven sharp."

Alice laughed, waved over her shoulder and disappeared down the dark hallway, cutting the kitchen lights off in her wake.

The living room was now halfway shrouded in darkness. I killed the remaining lights and walked quickly to my room, hoping that I wouldn't trip in the dark.

I stumbled into my room, which was on the opposite side of the apartment from Alice's room, and flipped on the lights.

I quickly changed into something a little more comfortable for bed than jeans and a t-shirt. I was so tired that I nearly toppled over as I pulled my pants off.

After yanking the clip out of my hair, allowing it to fall down past my shoulders—I wore my hair slightly longer now than last year when I had first cut it—I turned the lights off and slid into bed. I needed a good night's sleep because not only did I have a long day of school ahead of me but also because I had decided that tomorrow after school, I would finally go into the city and look for a job.

I felt bad about not having a job since I had been sixteen for more than a few months now and I had promised Alice that I would find employment when I was old enough. Of course, sweet Alice never reminded me of my promise, but I was reminded of it quite often when the lights were cut off for a few days because of non-payment or when the landlord found time to yell at us in the hallways of the apartment building because Alice and I was a few months behind on the rent.

But tomorrow, I would hopefully find a job and things will be better and a little easier for Alice. I didn't like her having to bear the entire load of responsibilities. After all, she was a full-time college student who had a full-time job and a part-time job, while also trying to raise and provide for her younger sister. Times were hard and the gas prices didn't help either, which was why we were forced to ride mopeds or public transportation.

I fell asleep quickly and easily and the dreams came again.

Now, this may sound a little weird but whenever I dreamed, I often dreamed about Shakespeare. No, not Shakespeare himself, but I usually dreamed about the characters and the settings of his plays.

I guess that the only reasonable explanation for this strange phenomenon was that I liked reading Shakespeare so much that my subconscious mind enjoyed taking his words and creating my own little world with them.

That's exactly what my dreams did. The dreams created the world of Shakespeare as I saw fit, a world where the characters could interact with each other beyond the limits of the words on the pages of his plays, bound in books around the globe. In my dreams, Hamlet could talk to Viola, Othello could fight alongside Puck and the fairies, and Rosalind could fall in love with Romeo and Orlando could fall in love with Juliet if both parties so desired.

And each time I had a dream about the "world" of William Shakespeare, it was different. It was like watching a sitcom on television. Each dream was a different episode, yet each dream focused on a particular person—the main character—and the character's relations with Shakespearean characters.

The main character was known simply as the Dark Lady. She had no name and was an enigma to all. She wore a black hooded cloak, shrouding her petite frame in darkness. Hiding her face was not only the shadows from her hood but a mask that she wore all of the time, never taking it off. It was a golden tragedy mask, like the ones that were worn in those classic plays. Whenever she spoke, her voice was muffled and distorted by the mask, making her sound scary and intimidating.

I didn't know if I liked the Dark Lady much and I didn't like the fact that she was always the central focus of my dreams. Why was she always the person who I saw in my dreams? Why couldn't I view the Shakespearean world through the eyes of Hero, or Helena, or even Ophelia? What was so important about the Dark Lady? She seemed evil and manipulative and always up to something, scheming and making deals with shady people, such as Tybalt, John Falstaff, and Caliban. She was stirring up trouble in the world of Shakespeare and the continual excitement usually left me craving more whenever I woke up the next morning.

Tonight's dream had the Dark Lady riding a top an ebony steed across the countryside of Shakespeare. She was riding hard and fast, never slowing and never ceasing as if she was on a desperate mission. She was flanked by her usual group of bodyguards. To her right was Tybalt, who rode upon a beautiful horse that had hair as silver as liquid mercury. To her left was the disfigured Caliban, who was keeping up with the Dark Lady on a mare the color of chestnut. Behind the three of them rode two more villains. On a spotted horse was Iago and next to him was Don John, his horse's coat nearly as dark as the Dark Lady's.

The five of them rode in silence and with haste. The thundering of hooves was so loud that no other sounds could be heard in the still night. A light breeze blew in from the west and the dark sky covered the world like an obsidian blanket. Tonight, the stars were hiding, afraid to show their light because of all the evil that was brewing. The moon was full and giving off a reddish tint. To the Dark Lady, the bizarre light of the moon was perfect to light the pathway to her destination.

They rode on for what seemed like hours beneath the crimson glow of the moon. Far up ahead were the black gates that led to a town. Several hundred yards away from the gates, the Dark Lady at long last ceased her parade. The others followed suit, forming a circle around the Dark Lady, who was climbing down from the back of her horse.

She was garbed in her usual cloak and mask and a gleaming sword was hilted at her side.

The Dark Lady looked around at her companions before addressing them. "We make camp here," she said, before barking instructions. "Iago! Start a nice and healthy fire. John! Tybalt! Pitch the tents. And Caliban, I would like to speak with you briefly. Tonight, we feast and rest, because in the morning we've got work to do."

No one said anything. They all complied with the Dark Lady's orders. Iago started to untie a sack of driftwood to create a fire, while Tybalt and Don John started making tents out of tools and equipment that was in another sack. Caliban dropped gracefully from his horse and limped surprisingly gracefully over to the Dark Lady. He had a sword hilted on either side of his waist.

"Yes, milady," Caliban addressed the Dark Lady, his voice deep, accented, and more of a growl than actual speech.

"You were right, Caliban, you were right," the Dark Lady told him smugly. "The King's Men have no idea what we are up to and neither does the Sycorax."

Caliban's gnarled face contorted into as much of a smile as he could produce with the scars that covered the entire left side of his face. "I told you so, milady," he growled. "_I_ am the Sycorax, so you will never have to worry about us. As for the King's Men, well let's just say that Prospero and Oberon have other matters to attend to than to worry about us betraying the three thrones. Besides, negotiations are going well with Claudius and he shall be in league with us shortly, once he gets rid of his pesky brother."

The Dark Lady laughed suddenly as though such a thought was amusing. "King Hamlet won't be a problem for someone as slippery as our friend, Claudius. Now, his son . . . his son may be a problem to us. Prince Hamlet may be a problem indeed."

Caliban raised his right eyebrow. "Are you kidding me? Prince Hamlet a problem? The boy is young and has no melee training. I doubt that he is even aware of his mystic ability yet."

"He has been off at school, so I am positive that his melee skills are probably at least sub par, but that is not why he poses a threat," the Dark Lady told Caliban. "Rumor has it that prince knows something about the skull."

Caliban's right eye grew wide with shock. "The _skull_? One of the relics?"

The Dark Lady nodded. "The very skull."

Caliban was confused. "How can a boy find out such valuable information? It has taken you about a decade to find five of the relics. How can he know anything about the skull? It's impossible."

"Not impossible if your father sits on one of the three thrones."

"So, you think that the three kings know the location of all of the relics?"

The Dark Lady nodded, a funny gesture, since she was wearing a hooded cloak and a mask. "And soon, once Claudius claims the throne of Denmark, we shall know the location of the final two. I'm sure that Henry and Duncan will disclose such a secret the moment that Claudius is crowned."

"Too bad that they don't know that we have already taken five of them the places that they were hidden," Caliban said, a half-grin plastered on his face. "Prospero suspects that some are missing but he has yet to send out a search team to be sure. Othello, as meddlesome as ever, wants him to but Prospero keeps declining. Othello may appeal to Oberon for support."

"Prospero suspects that some are missing?" the Dark Lady echoed. "When were you going to tell me this? And how does he suspect such a thing?"

"You mean to tell me that you don't know?" Caliban wondered, taken aback.

"Know what?" The Dark Lady demanded. After countless hours of research about the relics, she couldn't believe that she didn't know that there were things that she _didn't _know about them. The Dark Lady wanted to curse the historians who had aided her on her quest ever since she was a little girl and her father had first told her about the magical relics.

"About the bond between Prospero and the relics," Caliban said.

"Bond?" The Dark Lady echoed. "What bond?"

Caliban hesitated. "It's complicated," he replied. "I don't fully understand it myself. Prospero is a very powerful mystic—"

The Dark Lady cut him off. "You don't understand it?" She was growing angrier and angrier with each passing second. "You were Prospero's slave! Surely you must know something about this bond?"

Caliban seemed to struggle for a moment, suppressing his own anger. I got the feeling that he didn't like being referred to as Prospero's slave. "I do know something about the bond," he said to the Dark Lady slowly, keeping fury out of his voice, which was already difficult since his voice was already gruff and sounded angry anyway. "Apparently, Prospero was able to locate the relics decades ago. Believing that darkness would soon spread across the three thrones and the free lands with the first appearance of the Critics, he placed a very powerful enchantment on the relics before hiding them. The enchantment is supposed to protect the relics from thieves."

The Dark Lady seemed to relax a bit. "But we have mastered five of the relics, even with this enchantment of Prospero's. Only two remain and then, I shall be as powerful as the great Prospero himself."

"Oh, but there is more," Caliban warned the Dark Lady. "There are things about the enchantment that no one knows about, except for Prospero and perhaps Oberon. I don't think that the kings even know everything."

"Surely, the kings would know everything," the Dark Lady assumed.

"I don't think so," Caliban said. "You see, there is one thing about Prospero you should know—he doesn't trust the kings. Ever since he had his own . . . smaller throne usurped, he has been this way. He respects the kings and will work to keep them safe, but he will never trust them."

Before the Dark Lady could say anything more, Tybalt approached. He was armored and had a rapier sheathed at his waist. He looked from the Dark Lady to Caliban to back again as he walked up.

"Milady, your tent is ready," Tybalt informed her, bowing low.

"Thank you, Tybalt," the Dark Lady said and Tybalt swept away at once. The Dark Lady faced Caliban. "We will talk more about this later," she promised him before following Tybalt.

Caliban watched her retreating back with interest.

He continued to watch the Dark Lady throughout the rest of the evening, while they feasted and while they discussed tomorrow's plans. Caliban seemed to be searching, always searching, as if by observing he could learn the Dark Lady's ulterior motive behind tomorrow's journey into uncharted territory.

Wasn't her army large enough already? Wasn't her army strong enough? Duke Frederick had recently joined the Dark Lady's cause, bringing along his army, and so did Owen Glendower and Lord Angelo. Lord Claudius, who would soon rule one of the three thrones, had already expressed interest. And once he was king, his army would be a part of the Dark Lady's army. She would have the greatest army the world of Shakespeare has ever known.

So what was the point in trusting outsiders, outsiders who had so far proven to be peaceful invaders into the lands of Shakespeare? Prospero feared that the Critics were evil and they would make worthy allies to the Dark Lady if that were true, but how could she know that the Critics would agree to her terms? For all the Dark Lady knew, the Critics could have their own plans of attacking the three thrones, the smaller territories, and the free lands.

But Caliban didn't know that the Dark Lady shared in his thoughts. That was her biggest fear—that the Critics were already planning to invade Shakespeare through war and without the help of the Dark Lady and her followers. She, like everyone else, did not know where the Critics had come from. What was their purpose in Shakespeare? Had they come to live in harmony with the Shakespearean people, or had they come from different reasons? Tomorrow, hopefully, the Dark Lady would learn all that she wanted to know about the Critics. She would ask them questions, many questions, and with luck, they would answer all of them and then, a great alliance would be forged. The armies of the Dark Lady and the Critics would be unstoppable. Denmark would belong to her soon enough by default and one day, so would Scotland and England and every single territory and free city.

The sun set and rose sooner than expected. That night, the Dark Lady barely slept, listening to the sounds nature made outside of her tent. Her mind was on the important task that she had to carry out the next morning, forever thinking about the Critics. Although she was still very young, she had had plenty of experience with meeting leaders and proposing her plans of rebellion against the three thrones. But with the Critics, she knew that it would be different. She was unfamiliar with the Critics and the principles of their nation. The Dark Lady was positive that the customs of the Critics would be very dissimilar than those of the peoples of Shakespeare. None of her previous experience could prepare her for what she was about face.

"Your steed is ready to ride like the wind, milady," Don John interrupted the Dark Lady's thoughts after breakfast, when it was nearly time for them to depart from the camp.

"Thank you, John," the Dark Lady said absently.

She rose from her seat by the fire and clasped her cloak around herself. It was a chilly morning. The Dark Lady looked around at her companions. Everyone seemed ready but not eager to leave. Her eyes lingered on Caliban for a moment. She wanted to finish the conversation that they had started the night before, but now was not the time. It would have to wait until later. There was work to do.

The Dark Lady strode towards her horse, barking instructions along the way. "We ride without stopping to the gates. The Critics may send out scouts to protect their city. If so, we rendezvous with the scouts and I shall reveal to them our purpose of visit. Once we are granted access, Tybalt and Iago, I want you to remain outside of the gates as planned. You two know the signal if something goes wrong. I have soldiers awaiting your command to the east and to the west. Don't hesitate to bring them in and get us out of there."

Tybalt and Iago nodded at the same time and said almost simultaneously, "Yes, milady."  
"Caliban and John, the two of you will escort me to speak with the leaders of the Critics. I may need help in coercing them to join us and your expertise will definitely be welcomed."

Don John smirked and the Dark Lady didn't miss it. She also didn't miss how passive Caliban's face was. Nothing ever fazed him and that was what she liked about him. He would always have a place by her side and he would be very useful as a spy, a double agent. Only he, out of all of her allies, was the only one capable of such a role. Caliban knew things that the others didn't and his personality was so slippery.

The Dark Lady mounted her horse. "Let's ride."

They rode with as much haste as the previous night, quickly closing the gap between them and the gigantic black gates that lead into Critic territory.

As was expected, the Critics sent a team out to meet the Dark Lady and her companions about halfway to the gates. It was a five-man scouting party, which was the same exact number as the Dark Lady had in her party, perfect numbers in case a fight erupted. But off in the distance, the Dark Lady could see archers standing at the top of the gates, their bows ready. And behind the scouts were dozens of soldiers that were anxious to attack the newcomers. The Dark Lady hoped that it wouldn't come to that. Their escape would be very difficult when so many Critics were present.

The Dark Lady slowed her team to a halt and the lead Critic scout circled them several times on horseback. The other scouts lined up side-by-side behind their leader. The Dark Lady and her companions had nowhere to go. They were trapped and they hoped that the Critics would give them a friendly welcome.

Then, the lead Critic spoke in an unfamiliar language. It sounded like a series of growls and barks, similar to the gruff sounds that Caliban made. Where Caliban's words were actual Shakespearean words, the Critic's words were not. No one in the Dark Lady's entourage could translate what the Critic was saying to his own party. His tone of voice was enough for them to guess that the lead Critic was in charge and was giving orders to those that surrounded the Dark Lady and her associates.

A rumble of a growling response rippled through the circle of Critics, who were beings that were completely armored from head to toe so that none of their physical features were displayed. Simultaneously, they all pulled out swords from seemingly out of nowhere. The Dark Lady watched as they remained where they were, however, as if awaiting a signal of attack from their captain.

The Critic leader spun his horse around to face the Dark Lady and he approached her slowly and cautiously. The Dark Lady watched his advance silently, her hand on the hilt of her own sword. She waited as patiently as the group of Critics around her, alert for the first signs of imminent danger. If it came to that, then she would be more than ready to draw her sword. But she prayed that it wouldn't. She wanted to at least hold a conference with Critic leaders and request their aid against the forces of Shakespeare. She wanted them to be her allies, not enemies.

The Critic captain stopped his steed several yards before the Dark Lady and surveyed her in silence for a long time. She could see a spot of red behind the holes of his helm where eyes should be and decided that Critics had red eyes. It was only a supposition, as she, like her companions, had no earthly idea what the Critics looked like. They were an enigma.

Apparently, the Critic leader decided that the Dark Lady was the leader of her group because when he spoke, he addressed her with a couple of growls.

"Come again," the Dark Lady said, not understanding the language of the Critics and wishing she had a translator. It might be harder than she had imagined for her to communicate with the mysterious and so far pacifistic invaders.

The head Critic growled again, a little more impatiently the second time.

"I don't understand," the Dark Lady told him just as impatiently. "Do you speak Shakespearean?"

The Critic captain did not say anything for a long time and the Dark Lady was not happy with the pause. She was becoming more and more frustrated and if the Critics could not speak Shakespearean, then her plans were already foiled at least temporarily.

Then, he spoke again and when he did, the Dark Lady could understand him.

"Shakespearean?" the Critic echoed, as if he had learned the word for the first time in his life.

The Dark Lady nodded with disgust. It was like speaking to a small child who didn't know anything.

"Since our arrival," the Critic leader spoke slowly, unsure of the right words to say, "we have studied your people closely and we have learned most of your language." His voice was low and throaty, like a frog speaking human words. Despite that tiny little oddity, the Dark Lady could comprehend him fully and his sentences were coherent, unlike someone who was learning to speak for the first time. The Critics seemed to be a very intelligent species, the Dark Lady noted. She glanced over and saw that Caliban was watching the Critic leader silently, his face passive. Caliban was always watching, always emotionless. The reactions on the faces and Iago and Tybalt were the very opposite of Caliban. They were shocked that the Critic could speak Shakespearean nearly perfectly. A little work on inflection and the Critic could possibly pass as human.

"Very well then," the Dark Lady said. "May I request that we speak in the language of my people, for I know not of your language, regretfully so?"

The Dark Lady kept it pleasant and light, although her impatience was growing. But at least she was finally getting somewhere with the Critic captain.

"As you wish," the Critic said and there was something else that the Dark Lady noticed. The Critic was very polite in speaking to her and she couldn't help but to feel that the Critics would not cause her and her companions any harm unless they were provoked. Yet the Dark Lady would not remove her hand from the handle of her blade. She was not that trusting.

"Thank you," the Dark Lady said, trying to be as polite as the Critic. Impatience shone through in her voice, despite her futile efforts to suppress it. She wished she had learned patience as a child—patience would definitely help her in the current situation—however, impatience had its uses as well. Impatience usually got the job done, simple as that.

"You're welcome," the Critic said to the Dark Lady, before folding his right arm across his chest as though performing a type of salute. "I am a Critic Scout Captain. I am here to greet you on behalf of the Council of Nocturne. The Council would like to know why you and your party are approaching our beautiful city. Never before have your people come to visit us. What is the purpose of today's sudden visit? Are you ambassadors from the cities beyond our walls? Are you explorers who happen to wander towards our gates? Are you here to trade or offer us a concordance of co-habitation?"

The Dark Lady was now annoyed, along with impatient. The Critic had asked her a lot of unnecessary questions to get to the point of trying to find out why the Dark Lady and her entourage was there.

The Dark Lady chose not to answer each individual question, rather she focused on answering the primary question of note.

"We are here because of your last question," the Dark Lady told him. "We are here to offer you a concordance of co-habitation and . . . _more_."

The Critic Scout Captain considered this for a moment. Then, he said. "Okay, I shall take you before the council. If they decide to permit you into their chamber, then you will discuss with them your terms of agreement, ambassadors. Afterwards, they will deliberate and ultimately, a decision will be reached either in favor of your request or against your request. If the council votes in favor, then I will look forward to living alongside the human civilization you call Shakespeare. But if the council votes against you proposition, then you must leave our city and return to your home never to bother us again. My people never forget faces and if we see you again after being declined, then you will be struck down. Understood?"

Again, the scout captain said more than was necessary, but at least the Dark Lady knew what she would be up against. First, she would have to get the council to admit her into assembly with them. Then, she would make her proposition, before biting her nails impatiently while they voted on the projected plan.

"Of course," the Dark Lady said. "Now, if you please, could you take us to your council. We have much to discuss."


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

Now it is easy to understand why I actually look forward to having my strange dreams. Not only did they seemed and felt so real but also because they were exciting and always ended in suspense. What would happen next? What exciting adventure could my subconscious mind dream up next?

So, the Dark Lady was evil.

I had known it all along, yet I felt it hard to accept it now that I had concrete proof. I felt like a part of me was the Dark Lady. I know that sounds weird but the Dark Lady was the protagonist of my dreams and it was my mind that had created her after all.

I had created an abomination in the world of Shakespeare and I didn't know why. The Dark Lady was plotting to take over my beloved world, forging an alliance with the monsters that were known as the Critics. She already had a gang of followers with Caliban, Tybalt, Iago, and Don John already on her side. Lord Claudius seemed eager to sign up for the rebellion and along with his signature would come mostly, if not all of his own personal army, whenever he murdered his brother and was crowned King of Denmark. And now, the Dark Lady would have one army by joining with the Critics and with two enormous armies, there was a strong possibility that the revolt might have a chance against the two remaining kingdoms and the free lands of Shakespeare.

But that was only if the Critics sided with the Dark Lady after she addressed their Council of Nocturne and only if Claudius managed to kill King Hamlet. This was my own version of the Shakespearean plays, so maybe Claudius would not become king in my dream world. But for some reason, I believed that the Critics would join the rebellion. I could feel the Dark Lady persuading them to do so and then her utter relief and joy once her task was completely successfully, even while visions of the dream replayed over and over again inside of my head.

I sat there in my bed for a while, thinking and reflecting on the latest dream. I couldn't believe that I was analyzing my dream so much but like I said before, it had seemed so real. I sometimes woke up like this, confusing the real world with the fantasy world. And I sometimes thought that the events in my dreams had really happened like I was truly present inside the world of Shakespeare.

I glanced over at my alarm clock. It was nearly six in the morning, so my alarm was yet to go off. I had fifteen more minutes to get some more sleep, but I was up now, so I climbed out of bed and turned the alarm clock before the blaring of it frightened me later.

Stretching, I found a bathrobe, fresh underwear, and a towel, and I shuffled to the bathroom that was immediately past the kitchen on Alice's side of the apartment. Alice was already up and about; I could hear her moving around in her room, listening to the new Coldplay CD while she got ready for school.

I took a long shower, images of my dream flashing across my mind's eye once again. Caliban stood out the most in my mind. He was a mystery to me. The way he acted around the Dark Lady caused me to suspect that he wasn't completely on her side. I didn't think that meant that he was a good guy but that he had his own intentions separate from the Dark Lady's. Perhaps it had something to do with Prospero, the leader of the King's Men, who had enslaved him in the play, _The Tempest_.

After my shower, I returned to my bedroom to dress quickly in one of my best outfits—a red and brown Floral Taffeta jacket with ruffle collar and brown dress pants—since I was trying to look for a job after school. Alice was in the kitchen cooking while I dressed. She was wearing one of her best outfits as well since she had a presentation in one of her classes.

I joined her for breakfast a little bit after seven and Alice noticed my outfit the moment I jammed my fork into one of my waffles.

"You're all dressed up today," Alice commented, sipping her usual steaming hot morning cup of coffee. "You got a date with Will tonight?"

I could hear the slight dejection in her voice and I felt sympathy for her. I had a steady boyfriend, who I was happy to be with and who was the love of my life, but Alice was unfortunately not as lucky as I was when it came to love. She was an extremely busy woman, who hadn't had a true boyfriend since high school. Sure, she had dated a few guys over the past six years but she just didn't have the time to make such relationships work. She was twenty-three years old and should be searching for a potential husband, not working and going to school all of the time. That was why I really wanted to find a job for Alice's sake. It pained me to see her watching Will and I together. She needed her own Will.

I shook my head in response to her inquiry and chewed my waffles before I answered her verbally. "No, I don't have a date with Will tonight; he has to work," I informed her. "And speaking of work, I am going into the city to go job hunting."

Alice smiled. She seemed really happy by my decision. "You can come to the restaurant. I can get you a job there. We need a few new hostesses."

"I would like that but I think that I am going to try and find one myself first," I said, wanting Alice to realize that the whole job hunting thing was my way of trying to tell her that I was starting to become independent. I was sixteen, two years from adulthood and the moment when Alice would no longer be my legal guardian, and I wanted to start early learning how to make my own way in society to lessen the surprises I was sure to face if I decided to go off to college somewhere far away from Alice.

"You can check out the square," Alice suggested, trying to help me out as much as I would allow her to and I was grateful for it. "There are a few shops there that are looking for help."

It was a great idea. The square would be a good place to start because Will worked there. I could swing by and see him and he could point out the places that were hiring.

Alice left immediately after breakfast to meet with her group and finalize their presentation. I washed our breakfast dishes and went to the bus stop. Melody was already there, waiting for me.

My mind was still reflecting on the latest dream episode and I barely noticed that Melody had greeted me and was babbling on and on about something. I realized after I had journeyed back to the here and now that she was excited about her new outfit because she had made it herself. Over the past year, Melody had become somewhat of a protégé to Alice, learning the craft of making clothes. It was something I could never master—Alice had been trying to teach me to sew for years—and Melody was a fast learner.

Since Melody became my best friend last year, she had helped take Alice's clothes and my unique style to the next level. In fact, she was the secondary model and let's just say that my style wasn't quite so unique anymore. A few days after Melody first adopted my fashion sense, many other girls at school started to dress like us and the trend that I had always dreaded had caught on.

For a while I didn't like it but then I quickly realized it was selfish of me to be that way. After all, Melody had turned over a new leaf and had admitted that she was one of the admirers at school who had admired my style all along. She was my new best friend and was only trying to wear the clothes that she liked, that was all. Who would have thought that she would start a fashion revolution at school? I mean, all it took was one of the former popular girls to start wearing Alice's clothes and bam, just like that, everyone wanted to wear Alice's clothes, or something similar.

Today, Melody was wearing a green jewel front dress and she looked absolutely gorgeous. That was why she was proud of her outfit and was why I needed to be a good friend and pay attention to what she was saying to me.

"Anne, are you listening?" Melody asked after pausing briefly during her excited gibbering.

I nodded, taking my mind off of my dream. "Yeah, yeah," I lied and felt horrible about it, mind you. "Yeah, I'm listening."

Melody stared at me for a moment as if she didn't believe that I was telling the truth before she smiled and rambled on. "Like I just said, it was difficult to attach the jewels to the dress with the angular cutout. It took me hours and I was up all night last Saturday creating the bodice alone. But it turned out well. I think that Alice was just as proud as I was when I was finished. She complimented me on the halter-styled neckline that crosses the shoulder to form the V-neck detail back here."

Melody spun around to show me the back of her dress. "Nice," I commented. "But don't you think that's a little too risqué for school?"

Melody turned back around and looked slightly dejected. "That's what my mom said," she admitted. "That's why I am accessorizing my dress with this lovely gray sweater."

That was when I noticed the sweater that was draped across her right arm. Geez, what was my problem? I was not very perceptive that morning.

"I just can't believe it," Melody continued to talk about her new outfit. "I am in awe, you know. I never would have thought that my first dress would have turned out so wonderful. Alice says I have a natural talent and she thinks that I might be even better than she was as a novice designer."

"That's awesome, Mel," I said to her with sincerity. I was glad that Alice had someone who she could bond with over making clothes. Aside from not having a steady boyfriend, Alice also did not have many friends. It was good for her to hang out with someone sometimes other than me.

"So, what are you doing after school today?" Melody questioned me. "I was thinking about going to the Boutique and doing some shopping. You wanna come?"

The Boutique was a privately own clothing store where a young designer, much like Alice, sold all of her unique fashions at thrift store-like prices. For years, I had been trying to talk Alice into submitting some of her designs to the owner, but she always complained that they were not good enough. And this was coming from a person whose clothes were very popular at my school.

The clothes at the Boutique were a lot like Alice's style of clothing—cute, colorful shirts, beautifully adorned skirts that were quirky and comfortable, and fashionable dresses that were a concoction of past trends and present fads. Alice's clothes would sell well there if only she would listen to me. Recently, I had gotten Melody to jump on the bandwagon of "Talk Alice into Selling Her Clothes at the Boutique". I kind of felt bad about bringing up the topic over and over again to Alice because aside from not believing that her clothes belonged on the racks in the Boutique, Alice didn't think she could actual sell her stuff. Maybe it was some unwritten rule of being a fashion designer but Alice couldn't have people pay for her clothes. They were her masterpieces and she was an artist and I knew that she would rather display her clothes in a museum than to sell them. I could understand how she felt about her works of art but I also knew that we could use the extra money that I felt she would make if she sold some of her fashions for a living.

"After school, I am going to search for my first occupation," I informed her. "That's right, I am taking a leap into the business world."

"Well, look at you," Melody said, smiling and looking me over once. "Hence the marvelous attire. Aww, my little Anne is growing up so fast."

I giggled.

"Can I come with?" Melody inquired, rocking back and forth on the heels and balls of her feet, while flashing her long and curvy eyelashes at me. "Please? Maybe I can find a job too."

I didn't have to think about it for a long time. If Melody went with me, I wouldn't be as nervous as I was sure to be about walking into places and imploringly asking if they were hiring or not. An added bonus would be that I would have company along the way as well, someone to talk to and give me suggestions about which jobs I should try to apply for. I would have Will's help of course, but he would be stuck at work himself and wouldn't be able to tag along with me. By default, Melody was the perfect choice for my companion later that afternoon.

"Sure, it'll be fun," I said. "And if we have time, we can pick up a bit to eat or swing by the Boutique."

The bus came to pick us up a few minutes later and during the ride to school, Melody and I discussed our upcoming adventure in the city square. We parted ways when we stepped off of the school bus, but before we went to homeroom, we made plans to meet outside of the school's front entrance so that we could walk down to the nearest public bus stop and utilize the transportation that the city had to offer to get us to the square.

Since we started dating, Will and I tried to sign up for all of the same classes each semester. Last semester, we were very lucky but this semester, we weren't quite as fortunate. We only had two classes together each day, which in my opinion, didn't allow for enough Will and me time. After school wasn't any better because he had gotten his job about three months ago and he worked most evenings now. Will also worked every other weekend so we didn't get to hang out as much anymore. I kind of dreaded getting a job myself because that would mean less time that we would have for each other but Alice and I needed the additional money. Will would understand completely. I just had to get used to only seeing him for two classes at school and a couple of evenings at most during the week, and of course, I could see him every other weekend unless I worked weekends too. Man, I didn't really want to think about that. It was way more complicated than it needed to be and the thought of me not being able to see Will that much was making me feel sick in the stomach. But at least I no longer felt queasy whenever I saw him, or whenever he touched me, an upgrade. I guess a year of dating had helped me in the nausea department or reversed it since now I felt sick whenever I couldn't be with Will.

The first class I had with Will this semester was immediately before lunch. It was anatomy and in today's lesson, we studied the different components of the human skull. Anatomy was usually a bore, even to someone who was as studious as I was, but Mrs. Cohen's lecture today actually held my interest for once. She had my undivided attention, which made it difficult for me to stare at my beautiful boyfriend the entire time, a habit of mine that had I had formed as of late in that particular class.

Will was interested in today's lecture as well and I didn't even have to grab his hand once to wake him up when he occasionally dozed off. After reviewing where the cranium cavity was located and blah, blah, blah—stuff that I already knew backwards and forwards—Mrs. Cohen started talking about an appealing topic: Crystal skulls. The last time I sat on the edge of my seat was during that fateful chemistry class last year when Will came into my life.

Mrs. Cohen told us what crystal skulls were and gave her reasons why it was impossible for them to be created. I didn't care much for her theories but my mind was jogging. I had heard about crystal skulls before and not just from the latest movie in the _Indiana Jones_ saga. Then, I remembered that yesterday my English teacher had said that we would explore the myths behind skulls, crystal ones included, since we had covered _Hamlet_ last week. Last week was a good week for Will and I since we adored Shakespeare so much and we were looking forward to the next test when we would be allowed to write essays about the themes and concept from the play. If today's English lecture was just as exciting as today's anatomy lecture, then I might be changing my topic from the psychoanalysis of Ophelia and her death to something pertaining to the symbolism of skulls in the play—or one particular skull: Yorick's skull.

I ate lunch with Melody to the usual stares from Natalie Wentworth and her clique. She had long since replaced Melody with a girl who was tall and willowy and had sunken in cheekbones that made her resemble a skull. I couldn't get skulls out of my head now. They had replaced the dream from the previous night and Melody had laughed at me when I asked her if she thought it was possible for crystal skulls to exist.

"What are you talking about, Anne?" Melody asked me through fits of laughter. "First, your weird dreams about Shakespearean characters and now, you are prattling on about the existence of crystal skulls. Are you okay? Is something wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, Melody," I told her sincerely. After all, nothing was wrong. I wasn't going insane or anything, even though I had forgotten that I had mentioned to Melody once about the reoccurring or not so reoccurring dreams that I had quite often while asleep. It was a secret that I had never shared with anyone before, not even Alice or Will, and I wished that Melody would be a little more supportive here instead of wondering if there was something wrong with me. I listened to her talk about her new outfit, so why couldn't she humor me and discuss crystal skulls with me?

"I just . . . it's a fascinating topic," I continued. Melody had stopped laughing and was picking though her salad with her fork, while listening to me. I knew she wanted to laugh at me some more but I pressed on and hoped that she would be a good friend and not chuckle anymore while we held such a conversation. "Mrs. Cohen was talking about them in anatomy today."

Melody stopped playing with her food and looked up at me. "What are crystal skulls again?"

I sighed. "Haven't you been listening to me this entire time?" I demanded, slightly crestfallen. If Melody was going to ignore something important to me then I might decide to go job hunting alone, as much as I didn't really want to. And since when did crystal skulls become important to me?

Melody smiled but didn't snicker. "I have been listening to you, Anne. Lighten up okay? I was only joking."

I was so frustrated that I didn't want to talk about crystal skulls anymore. A change of topic was in order, so I gobbled down a forkful of my own salad, rinsed it down with a sip of tea, and then pointed my plastic fork at Melody's half-eaten tray of food.

"Why aren't you eating?" I asked her curiously. Normally, Melody was the hungry one of our duo.

Melody shrugged. "I'm nervous, I guess."

"Nervous?" I echoed. "About what?"

Then, it hit me. I had nearly forgotten that we would be looking for jobs later that day. What was up with me? Lately I was forgetting a lot of things. But that didn't matter. What mattered was that so far today I had managed to suppress all signs of anxiety that threatened to creep up on me and now, Melody had reminded me of nerves.

I dropped my fork before Melody could say the obvious. "N-n-never mind. You don't have to say it. Thanks Melody for reminding me that I am scared senseless to try and find a job. Rejection is out there and it is my biggest fear. Thanks. Now, I can't eat either."

For the first time that lunch, Melody didn't smile. "Join the club," she said acrimoniously.

"You know," I started slowly. "You don't have to do this. I am the one trying to find employment. You don't have to look for one too unless you really, truly want to. You can just tag along and enjoy the ride. You don't have to be nervous too. You can be calm and supportive and look forward to a good meal and a good shopping spree."

"Thanks, Anne, but I want to see what happens and then, go from there," Melody said.

"Okay then," I said. "We'll be nervous together."

After lunch was two classes without Will—one of them was PE—so nothing of importance to note there, unless you want to here me talk about my increasing apprehension. I'm sure that will bore you as much as Mrs. Cohen's anatomy classes typically bored me so I think I'll pass on describing to you how I nearly puked in my history class and move on to the last class of the day and the second one that I shared with Will.

I always looked forward to English class each day because not only was English my favorite subject but because I could count on seeing Will there. And what was better than spending the final hour and a half together before school was dismissed?

We walked to class hand-in-hand—Will had met me outside of my history classroom like usual. Will noticed my nervous face at once and like Melody did when I started talking about crystal skulls, he asked me, "What's wrong, sweetheart? You look sick."

I needed to learn to how to hide my fear better.

"I'm fine, Will," I lied, which made me feel worse. "It has just been a long day and I'm tired."

"You should take a nap after school," Will suggested. "I get a forty-five minute break now—well, I get a thirty plus fifteen and can take both of them together if I want to—and I could swing by your apartment and bring you dinner."

He was so kind and I loved him. He was always thoughtful, my Will.

"No, that's okay, you don't have to bring me dinner," I told him. "I think Melody and I are going to pick up something." And I stopped there. I didn't want to ruin the surprise of me visiting him at work.

"You two hanging out today?" Will asked casually.

I nodded. "We're going to try and do some shopping at the Boutique and have a girls' evening in the city." At least I had told him the truth. Mostly. Melody and I did have plans to shop and eat dinner.

We entered English class and took our usual seats, up front and in the center. I unzipped my backpack and pulled out my notebook that I used for this class. I opened up the notebook and flipped it to the first blank page. The page before had my newest sonnet on it.

I loved writing sonnets. I couldn't write any other type of poetry but I was really good at sonnets. Of course my sonnets were Shakespearean sonnets in origin, but I also added my own personal touch to them. The form of three quatrains and an ending couplet remained, as did the third quatrain being a volta and the rhyme scheme being _a-b-a-b, c-d-c-d, e-f-e-f, g-g_. But I speak for all high school kids, even those who love Literature and English, when I say that I hate iambic pentameter. It was easy for me to have nine or ten syllables per line but the stressed and unstressed and naturally accented words drove me insane. Therefore, I just write each line however I feel like writing them, while sticking to most of the rules of Shakespearean sonnets.

I showed Will my new sonnet by shoving the notebook underneath his nose. Will laughed. "What's this?"

"Read it," I ordered him playfully. "It's my new sonnet."

Will was impressed. "You're just churning them out lately. You're like a . . . like a sonnet printing press or something."

I laughed. "A printing press?"

"Yeah, um, I'm going to read your poem."

"Sonnet, Will," I corrected him. "Sonnets are not poems, they are art."

"Well, poems are art too," Will countered.

It was a playful argument that we liked to have often; just one of the many fun moments of our relationship. You know, all couples who are lovey-dovey with each other have little minor, funny disagreements and inside jokes, etc. Arguing over whether or not sonnets should be included in the poetry genre was one of our favorite discussion topics. Will liked sonnets but he was so talented in other types of writing that he didn't care about them as much as I did. Sonnets were the only writing I was good at. I mean, I could write a decent essay and had even written a few short stories during my time but Will could write plays and novels if he wanted to. Sonnets were to me what making clothes were to Alice.

I rolled my eyes. "Just read before Mr. Moore arrives."

I watched as Will's eyes scanned the page and I recited the sonnet inside of my head along with him as he whispered it aloud. I had memorized my newest sonnet as I did with all of my sonnets and it was always a joy to have Will read them when I was finished:

_In the mirror I saw your face again_

_Staring back at me with familiar eyes_

_I return to this haven now and then_

_Seeing you is like watching the sun rise_

_For it is not my reflection I see_

_Which makes me wonder if this is all real_

_Behold, my true love staring back at me_

_His reflection, his face, I long to feel_

_Behind the glass, he is most like a ghost_

_Trapped in a cage, a prisoner of love_

_He's the only person I want the most_

_Our hearts are pure like two turtledoves_

_We long to fly free and escape the past_

_We will be together, I break the glass_

Will returned the notebook to me and gazed into my eyes. "That was a good poem," he complimented me and I ignored that fact that he called my sonnet a poem. "Is it about me?"

I poked the tip of his nose with a finger. "Of course, it is about you, silly. Who else would it be about? I can never feel this way about anyone except for you."

"So, explain the line about escaping the past," Will said.

"A past of us not knowing each other," I clarified something that was hard to convey in my sonnet, even though I had worked on it for hours at a time. "The mirror represents us knowing all along, even in our past lives, that we needed to be together, that the other person was always out there staring back at the other. And all we had to do was shatter the mirror and we could be together without the whole seven years of back luck superstition."

"Well, we have seemed to shattered the mirror, which has been the best thing that has ever happened to me and I am definitely hoping for seven years of good luck." And then, he did it. Will smiled my favorite smile, the smile that traveled from ear to ear.

Mr. Moore walked in then. He was an interesting, odd little old man, who seemed forever stuck in the seventies. He was a wonderful teacher who really engaged literature from all angles. I had a teacher last semester who was only concerned with character analysis and it was quite repetitive. Mr. Moore was different. He made his classes fun and enjoyable and little did I know that I was in for a really good treat with today's lecture.

Mr. Moore talked about crystal skulls and I felt a twinge of déjà vu. I sat on the edge of my seat again. Beside me, Will leaned forward in his own chair and I could hear his pen scratching against notebook paper at an insane speed, copying down everything that Mr. Moore said almost word for word.

"Crystal skulls have been a fascinating phenomena for centuries," Mr. Moore lectured. "Usually comprised of quartz crystals, instead of diamonds, which is a common misconception among modern people, crystal skulls are claimed to be dated from the pre-Colombian Mesoamerican time period of world history. Those claims have been proven false, as most crystal skulls were made in the mid 19th century in Europe, but the myths of the crystal skulls continue to live on today.

"Crystal skulls are fascinating because of the extraordinary paranormal, psychic, and supernatural powers that many believe they possess. Fictional novels, video games, television shows and movies explore this concept, usually explaining the origins of crystal skulls to come from Native American folklore or the mythologies of the Aztec and Mayan civilizations. Museums around the world, such as the British Museum and the Smithsonian Institution house several crystal skulls and I have one here for the class to view."

Mr. Moore pulled a crystal skull out of his bag and placed it delicately on his desk to the "ooohs" and "ahhhs" of the students of the class.

"This is a replica, a smaller version of an actual crystal skull," Mr. Moore informed the class. "But it serves its purpose to demonstrate the composition of a true crystal skull and it is made from quartz as well. Crystal skulls, like the one seen here, are similar to the representations of skulls in Aztec and Mayan paintings and carvings, which is why many believe that they have origins in the ancient civilizations of Mexico and Peru.

"One of the myths surrounding crystal skulls is that crystal skulls are said to have psychic powers because they are encased in crystals with psychic energy. By merely being held, crystal skulls bring unusual powers to their owners. Unlimited happiness and good luck are some of the psychic benefits to having crystal skulls. Crystal skulls are also utilized in the art of divination as substitutes for crystal balls by fortunetellers.

"Speaking of fortunetellers, crystal skulls are used to predict the future in other ways. Crystal skulls are linked to the Mayan calendar and the supposed end of the world on December 21, 2012, the date when the thirteen mystical skulls will be reunited. Not only that, but crystal skulls also have supernatural abilities such as healing factors and can even stop death from occurring. Some even believe that crystal skulls can resurrect the dead as well. And one of the most famous speculated crystal skulls is Yorick's skull from the play _Hamlet_."

Will's hand shot up at once.

"Yes, Mr. Stratford?"

"Sir, are you trying to tell us that Yorick's skull is supposed to be a crystal skull?"

Mr. Moore shrugged and smiled; he always enjoyed it when his students interacted with his lectures. "Perhaps," he responded. "Or perhaps not. I will leave it for you to decide when I say this: 'Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him well'."

Will beat me to the punch. Mr. Moore had misquoted the line from _Hamlet_. Knowing our teacher, he had most likely done it on purpose to see if anyone would notice and to advance his teachings on crystal skulls.

Calmly, and remembering his role of Hamlet last year during one of the Drama Club's production of a Shakespearean play, Will recited the line from Act Five that Mr. Moore had poorly declaimed.

"Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio; a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy; he hath borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is! my gorge rises at it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now?" Will went well beyond the misquoted line. "I think you meant that you knew Yorick, Mr. Moore; not that you knew him well."

I elbowed Will playfully in the side. "Showoff," I muttered under my breath. Will beamed.

"Ahoy, we have an expert of Shakespeare here," Mr. Moore was proud but some of the students in the class weren't. I saw a couple of girls in the corner roll their eyes, jealous of Will's ability to recall Shakespearean lines at the snap of a finger. "Perhaps I didn't know Yorick _well _then, after all, which is the point of my lecture for today. I am trying to demonstrate the various believes over the important skull in the play _Hamlet_, and I want you to choose a side for your next test. I have introduced the notion of Yorick's skull being a fabled crystal skull and now, we shall explore the idea of skull symbolism in literature, and in particular, the skull symbolism in _Hamlet_. Afterwards, I shall give you your essay prompts and allow you to have fun engaging the text critically so I can look forward to reading your responses.

"But first, skull symbolism. Skulls usually symbolize death and mortality because it is an easily recognized symbol of the human body after decomposition. When Hamlet finds Yorick's skull in the play, he recognizes it as the skull of his former friend. He then comteplates whether or not to act in his famous "To be or not to be" speech, a soliloquy of bitterness and ironic humor. The online dictionary, Wikipedia, states that 'the skull was an emblem of melancholy for Shakespeare's contemporaries', but is also an emblem that 'cannot be assumed to be a mere symbol of Death'. . . ."

English class passed by like a speeding train, you know one of those French trains that can travel extremely fast all throughout Europe. School was over quickly and before I knew it, I was saying farewell to Will at the buses before I met Melody outside the front entrance to the school's main building. Melody was sitting by the fountain out in the quad area, talking on her cellphone when I found her.

I approached Melody slowly, not wanting to overhear her conversation. Melody looked up, squinting against the glare of the sun, and saw me coming. She hastily ended her phone call with an "Okay. I love you too. Yeah, I will call you later. Yes, I got enough money for the bus fare. Okay. Bye."

Melody slid her cell phone shut and pocketed it. She looked up at me and stood up.

"Mom?" I guessed as to who Melody was just talking to on the phone.

Melody nodded once. "She was just checking up on me." Melody sighed. "She is always checking up on me. How much you wanna bet that she'll call like a dozen times while we are hanging out?"

"At least you have a mother to check up on you," I pointed out and immediately wished I hadn't. I had instigated a very sensitive subject. Melody and I had only talked once about what had happened to my parents five years ago and after that intial conversation, we never really brought the subject up again except on rare occasions like this when the topic starter slipped out of one of our mouths. It was painful for me to talk about the accident. Alice and I never spoke of it and we tried to avoid the subject at all cost. Will was my only other confiance pertaining to that matter and he and I rarely spoke of it as well.

Melody fell silently at once and I could tell that she was searching for the right word to say that wouldn't make the conversation any more awkward than it already was.

"But you've got Alice," she finally said after a moment of thought. "She checks on you, I'm sure."

"She does," I acknowledged, glad that Melody had found the perfect words to say that would not reopen the wounds that caused the pain that built up whenever I thought or spoke about the accident.

The awkwardness passed and Melody and I walked off of campus and up the sidewalk about a block and a half to the nearest bus stop. We sat on the bench and watched the pedestrians pass, inventing stories about each person. It was easy to tell a person's occupation by several traits—clothing, hairstyles, the way they walked and so forth. It was like that one Poe story—sorry I am not much of a Poe enthusiast since I absolutely adore Shakespeare—about the one narrator who sits in a coffee shop and does something similar to what Melody and I were presently doing.

The bus arrived about fifteen minutes after we did, so we didn't have much time to play our amusing game.

We got off a couple of blocks away from the place where Will worked—a local courier service. It was almost four o'clock, the time that Will was supposed to be at work. Melody was starving since she didn't eat her lunch and I was more than willing to eat some more since I didn't finish my own lunch, so we decided to eat our dinner earlier than we wanted to. I wanted to give Will some time to get to work and even though I was still nervous, my hunger was starting to overwhelm me more so than anxiety.

We ate dinner in a small burger joint across the street from Will's work. The food was good there, not great, but the burgers were greasy and big enough to beat out a double cheeseburger from the dollar menu at McDonald's anytime.

With our stomachs full and our hunger satisfied, Melody and I journeyed across the street and found Will behind the counter like usual. He spotted us when we walked into the building and his eyes widened in surprise.

"Anne!" he called out and I was glad that he wasn't with a customer for he was sure to have neglected him or her at the sight of me. Will ran over to us." Melody? Hi? What are you two doing here?"

He swept me up into a tight bear-hug and kissed my forehead.

"A surprise visit," Melody answered because Will was currently crushing me in his excited embrace. She jammed a thumb in my direction after Will had released me. It took me a moment to begin to breathe regularly again. "It was her idea."

Will looked at me, smiling my smile. My knees buckled slightly. "I thought you two were hanging out."

"We were," I told him. "We've eaten dinner and now we are going to go and look for jobs. After that, then we are—"

"Wait a minute," Will interrupted me. "You two are looking for a job. Wow. I'm impressed. But why didn't you tell me, Anne? I can probably help you."

"I wanted to surprise you," I said. "Besides, that's what we are here for—to ask for your help. We were wondering if you could point us in the right direction. You know, tell us which places are hiring around here."

"Yeah, give us the rundown," Melody almost pleaded. "Not only tell us who's hiring but what are the best jobs. I don't think I can be a busboy, or whatever they are called for girls. My nails don't do dirty dishes. Sorry."

Will thought long and hard. "Well, I guess that restaurants are out of the question, so let's see . . . ."

"Restaurants are not out of the question," I spoke up. "I don't mind working at a restaurant. Alice works at a restaurant and she could show me the ropes if I was hired as a waitress or whatever."

"Okay, so restaurants are still in for you, Anne." He paused to think again. Will was garbed in his red and blue work uniform—polo shirt and khaki pants—and he looked adorable. I always believed he was out of his element working in a courier's office, but he looked so handsome pulling it off. "Let's see. The uh, seafood place is hiring and so is the burger place across the street."

"We just ate there," I revealed to him. "I liked the food but I don't think that I could work there. And seafood . . . I don't know about the seafood restaurant. I don't want to get off of work smelling like fish."

Will chortled. "Picky, aren't we?" For a third time, he was deep in thought. He really wanted to help us find a job and I could tell that just by how hard he was thinking. Will knew a little about Alice and mine's financial situation and he knew that I needed a job. He would make suggestions for me until he was blue in the face.

"The only other restaurant that might be hiring around here is the German restaurant and I think that it is required that you speak German fluently to be even considered for the job."

"Okay then, enough about restaurants," Melody said. "The food industry is overrated anyways among high school students whose first jobs are manning fry stations or flipping beef patties on a grill. What about clothing stores? Are there any around here that are looking for fashion experts such as Anne and I?"

"Clothing stores?" Will echoed. "Not much there. And before you ask, The Boutique is not hiring, unless you're a designer that is, so that leaves only that one thrift store on the corner at the end of the block. I think that's the only clothing store that is hiring."

Melody displayed her dress for Will to see. I didn't think I liked her showing off such a revealing dress to Will but I didn't need to be jealous. Melody was my best friend and she would never think of Will as more than a friend and Will was . . . well, Will was the perfect boyfriend who couldn't lie.

"You see this?" Melody asked Will. "I designed and made this dress. I am a designer and I am going to get a job at the Boutique selling my designs." She looked over at me. "Maybe if Alice can see how successful I am going to be, then she might decide to sell her clothes as well." Melody was awfully confident and I hoped she did get the job. I would hate to see her after she was rejected because it would devastate her and she would probably give up fashion design altogether. And I would never in a million years want to see her abandon her dream.

"Now, all you have to do is make a suggestion, Will, that will benefit me," I said. More suggestions for Melody was out of the question because she would not settle for anything other than the Boutique now. Again, I hoped that she would get the job.

"Hmm. For my Princess Anne," Will began. Princess Anne was one my nicknames that he had given me a few months after we started dating. I liked it and he seemed to like it even more since he used it quite often. How fitting of a nickname it was too since Will was Prince Charming in my eyes and he always made me feel like a princess no matter what. Will was so perfect for me that I could never recall an instance where we quarrelled. There were many times when we playfully argued but I don't think that we disagreed over much. In addition to being honest, Will was the most selfless guy I had ever met, like Edward from the _Twilight _series, only Will was human and Edward's not.

"Other than the restaurants and the thrift store, that's about it," Will said in defeat. But then, he brightened suddenly. A strange and peculiar smile crossed his face then and it was far from my smile. It was a smile that clearly said that he was up to something that I might not like. But I trusted Will and knew that he would not be devious and lead me astray. He wanted to assist me in seeking employment and whatever job he was thinking of would probably be a perfect fit for me. Then, why did I think that his smile meant that he was scheming up something?

"I know a place that you might like working at, Anne," Will said and I waited to hear what he had to say next. I listened with intensity. "The Merchant's Library," Will said proudly as if he had finally come up with the correct answer to a very complex math equation.

I stared at him and Melody made a sound of annoyance or maybe it was a sound of disbelief; I didn't know. "The Merchant's Library," Melody echoed. "Are you serious?"

Will nodded and beamed.

"You want Anne to work at that secondhand book store that is run by that creepy skopkeeper Antonio?" Melody asked Will.

Will looked deeply hurt without warning. "Antonio is not creepy," he defended one of his good friends. According to Will, he and Antonio had been acquaintances for quite some time now even before Will had moved here. In his previous home, a place that Will had never spoken of and I had never really asked him about—I usually tended not to pry into other people's business unless they told me about it first—Will's parents had been good friends with Antonio as well.

"Okay, so he's not creepy," Melody agreed with Will after realizing that she had hurt my boyfriend's feelings, "but he is not completely sane. I mean, who gets so angry at a group of kids who were trying to read those precious manuscripts of his and call the cops on them?"

"Those manuscripts are special!" Will cried. "They were written by Shakespeare himself."

Ah. I remembered then what they were talking about. The famous Shakespearean manuscripts. Apparently, the shopkeeper Antonio was an even bigger fan of Shakespeare than me, Will, and Alice combined. Antonio collected Shakespearean artifacts and his most prized possessions were manuscripts of some of Shakespeare's plays, such as _Henry IV _and _Othello_, that were supposedly written by the great playwright himself. Rumor had it that Antonio kept the manuscripts hidden in a back room of his store since he lived on the top floor of the building that was his home and office sort to speak. Will had been trying since we first started dating to get me to go into the bookstore with him and attempt to get Antonio to allow us to steal a gander at his precious documents; however, things had always come up or I had declined on several occassions. I had met Antonio one day in the square and I had to admit that he was a pretty bizarre old man.

Still, if he was hiring help for his bookstore then I would serious have to consider applying. I tried to think about all of the positive benefits. If I got a job at the Merchant's Library, I would be working very close to Will and perhaps we would be able to take lunch breaks together and take romantic strolls through the square after meals. Not only that but I will spend most of my time after school in a shop that sold books. It would be like heaven for me since I loved to read a lot. The positive aspects of such a job was really starting to outweigh the bad—working with Antonio—the more I thought about it.

"Or so Antonio says," Melody countered. "Do you have proof that they were written by Shakespeare? For all we know, they could be forgeries."

"Will you two stop bickering?" I interjected before the conversation got worse. I didn't want my best friend and boyfriend arguing. Several customers had drifted into the store and they were nosily staring at the three of us. I didn't want them to complain and get Will into trouble with his boss. "I'll check out the Merchant's Library. Working with Antonio can't be that bad right?"

Melody shot me an "Are you crazy?" look then and Will smiled my smile again. "You have to try and read one of the manuscripts," he joked. "You have to try and read one."

I kissed his cheek. "Thanks sweetheart, but I don't think that I am going to try something that might get me fired before I even got the job."

"Of course, darling," Will said, the smile fading from his face and I wished that it would return. "Trust me. I would never want you to do anything that could jeopardize your first job."

I gave him a quick kiss and Melody and I left, departing and going on our separate quests to find employment. After agreeing to meet back at Will's work when we were finished and after leaving our backpacks under the careful supervision of Will, Melody headed for the Boutique, while I made my way through the crowd towards the Merchant's Library.

On the way there, I passed by the seafood restaurant that Will had mentioned. With the doubt in my mind that I might not get the job at the bookstore, I crossed the street and headed back to the restaurant. I was about to walk inside when I received a phone call from Alice that would make me change my mind about trying to work in a restaurant.

"Hello?" I answered my cell phone.

"Hey Anne," Alice said. My cell phone was for emergencies so I was wondering why she had called. Not only that but she was phoning me from home. Wasn't she supposed to be at work. "How's the job hunt going?"

I knew that something was wrong at once. Alice had called me on my cell phone, which she rarely did. Also, she was doing that thing she did whenever she was trying to work up the courage to tell me something; she was stalling by asking casual questions and I could sense the fear in her tone of voice.

"I'm just getting started," I told her, humoring her. "Melody came with me so we ate dinner and went to visit to Will to find out all of the places that might be hiring in the square."

"I forgot that Will worked in the square," Alice said softly. "Where are you going to apply for a job?"

"I was going to Merchant's Library, but I am going to go and talk to the manager of the seafood place as soon as I get off the phone with you."

Alice fell slilent after that and I thought I heard small sobs on her end of the phone.

I didn't hesitate when I asked her, "Alice? What's wrong?"

Alice _did _hesitate when she responded. "Don't try to work for a restaurant," she told me, almost as if she was ordering me not to. "Go and apply at the bookstore. I'm sure that you can get a job there. Mr. Antonio has been looking for help for months now."

"Why?" I wondered. "You work at a—"

And then I figured it out right then and there without Alice having to say it. My heart dropped in my chest. How were we going to survive now?

"I, uh, I . . ." Alice stuttered.

"Don't," I silenced her. "I know and I'm sorry."

"We're going to make it, okay?" Alice told me. "I still have the job working the front desk in the university center at school, so we'll be fine. We may have to cut back on some of the expenses we don't need until I able to find another job, but we're going to be okay."

Alice had repeated "we're going to be okay" more so for herself to hear it than to reassure me. I was so devastated that my silence was evident. I held the phone tightly in my hand and just listened to the noises around me in the square for Alice had fallen silent as well.

"Okay," I finally said after a long time of silence. I could hear Alice crying on the other end. She was trying to be quiet about it but she was failing miserably.

"Well, have fun with Melody and good luck," Alice told me in between sobs. "I'll see you when you get home."

I couldn't say anything more to Alice except for, "Okay."

I hung up the phone and turned away from the seafood restaurant with a grim look on my face. I couldn't believe that Alice had lost her main job and our main source of income. I wished that I shared in her hopeless optimism but it was impossible. There was no way we could afford the rent with the money that she made from the university alone. I had to get a job as soon as possible. I just had to.

Determined, I marched up the sidewalk to the Merchant's Library. It was a quaint little place that sold new and used—mostly used and tattered—books.

The store was particualrly empty when I entered the bell chiming entrance, save for an elderly couple who looked as though they were shopping for treasures the way that they handled the tomes that they were carrying.

Antonio was behind the counter, watching and observing. I approached him cautiously.

He was a stern-looking man with salt-and-pepper hair and a goatee. He wore a strange attire, like some fashion that was not of the current times, or even the century for that matter. Antonio was a Shakespearean scholar and his clothing was something out of Elizabethean times.

Antonio watched me approach, taking his eyes off of the elderly couple. He remained silent and allowed me the courtesy of speaking first, which was not a good idea in my opinion because of one problem that I had whenever I combined nerves with speech—

"Uh . . . uh, h-hi," I stammered, forcing myself to smile. "I w-was wondering if . . . if you were hiring?"

Antonio didn't respond quite yet. Instead, he pointed at the foggy windows of his shop. Even though the sign was facing outside and the words printed on it were backwards, I could still read it clearly.

NOW HIRING

I swallowed and knew that I already had one strike against me for ever getting a job here with my dumb qustion. How could I have been so stupid?

I looked back at Antonio and grinned a very cheesy grin, even for my standards. "Well, then, I would like to apply for a job please Mr. . . . Mr. . . ." My voice trailed off and I realized then, as my heart pounded like a bass drum inside my chest, that I didn't know Antonio's last name. And I thought that referring to him as Antonio to his face was a tad bit rude. For a fleeting second, I considered calling him Mr. Merchant but I quickly thought better of it.

"Antonio will do just fine," Antonio told me. He had an unusual voice. It was calm and steady and like Will's voice, he had an accent that was difficult to place. "In Venice, my home," he continued, "we only address people by his or her given name. Surnames are unnecessary as other, more important niceties are observed there."

Venice? Does this guy think that he is the Merchant of Venice or something? Sure, he shared a name with Antonio from the play who was a rival of the villain Shylock, but did he really think he was actually from Venice? That, I found difficult to believe.

"Okay, I would like to apply for a job—" I hesitated, not sure if he was joking or not "—Antonio, sir." I added a hasty sir to the end of my statement, observing my own personal niceties.

Antonio nodded and looked me over twice. "Have you any work experience, particularly in retail?"

I shook my head. "No sir, I haven't," I told him very politely. "But I'm a fast learner, except when it comes to making clothes. Long story there but I am pretty smart and I pick up on things easily. Plus, I love reading."

Antonio was silent for a moment, his face passive just like Caliban's from my dream.

"I am a very busy man," Antonio said. "I do not have much time to train you. Therefore, I am looking only for people who are experienced and—"

I knew where he was going with his words. He was about to shoot me down and I was not going to let that happen. Too much was riding on this job and I did not want to go and apply at that seafood place after what happened to Alice today.

I cut Antonio off in mid-sentence and I didn't care if I was being rude. I wanted and _needed _this job.

"With all due respect, sir, I am pretty sure that I can do the job well enough that you wouldn't have to train me much. I mean, how hard is it to run a cash register, even one as old as that one." I noticed that the cash register was ancient like it was the prototype for the first ever register that was placed in stores.

"But, there's more to the job than handling cash," Antonio tried his hardest to keep from hiring me. "There's customer assistance. You have to help customers find the books that they desire and it is imperative that you have some knowledge about each book. Also, you must know the inventory—how many books we have on the shelves—"

I interrupted him again. "Give me a week and I can learn the inventory," I pleaded with him. I hated pleading but I had to make sacrifices to get this job and self-pride had to be the first thing I gave up, an opportunity cost. "And I know these books. Half of them I have read, I'm sure." As I looked around, I saw a couple of Jane Austen books on one of the shelves and _The Great Gatsby_, along with _The Count of Monte Christo_—I had read all of them at one point in my life.

"Please, just get me a chance," I concluded, my voice shrill and traveling up several octaves within a few seconds.

"But you have no work experience," Antonio repeated.

I broke down then. Tears streamed from my eyes, falling slowly at first and then, picking up tremendously. That was all if had taken. The conversation with Alice came back to me and now, I was being denied the only job that I thought I would actually enjoy. I guessed I could still try for the seafood place and if that did not work out then it would be back to the drawing board.

I had to try one more time. I had to . . . .

"I know I don't have any work experience but I want this job. My sister lost her job today and I know that you don't care about my life story, but my sister has been struggling to take care of me ever since . . . since something terrible happened with our parents. Now, that I am old enough, I want to help her. I want a job. I _want _this job and all I ask is for you to just give me one week. If I am not the employee that you want by then, then you can fire me or whatever. Just give me one chance, please?" And I wiped my face and tried to hide the tears but they were just overwhelming. It had been a long time since I had cried like that.

Antonio was silent for a long while. I averted my eyes. I couldn't look at him. I didn't want to see the look on his face. That was my last shot. If that didn't work, then I would be leaving in shame. I couldn't fight anymore. I was out of ammo now. There was nothing better that I could come up with than genuine tears and a heartfelt story that may or may not win over the sympathy of a man like Antonio.

"Follow me," Antonio said out of nowhere and my eyes finally found his eyes again. A surge shot through me but I didn't want to get my hopes up, at least not too much. "Welcome to the Merchant's Library. Let me give you a tour of the premises."

I couldn't believe it. Antonio was given me an opportunity to prove myself worthy of working for him. I hadn't expected this. Even when I broke down and cried, I was greaing myself up to accept defeat. I was sure that he was going to turn me down but then the unexpected happened. Maybe he felt sorry for me or maybe not; however, I was grateful for whatever changed his mind. I had a job now and I would be able to help Alice out. She would be thrilled. I wondered how Melody was doing as ecstasy coursed through me. I no longer had to worry about myself getting a job and suddenly my thoughts shifted to Melody.

"Thank you so much," I couldn't stop myself from telling Antonio, hoping my words would not spoil the moment. He didn't say anything; he just walked out from behind the counter and looked around the shop. The elderly couple were still shopping and they both had an armful of books.

Antonio gave me a brief tour, which was brief due to the fact that there wasn't a whole lot to the store. He showed me the sales area and how the items were separated into sections based on book genre, like your typical Barnes and Noble or another famous bookstore chain. Then, he took me through a doorway near the front counter that led to several smaller rooms. Antonio's office was the first room. It was a tiny office with barely enough room to fit a desk and chair. I noted that Antonio didn't have a computer, only a private selection of gigantic books that I assumed were primarily used for research. Antonio seemed to be very old-fashioned. As his new employee, he told me that I was allowed to visit his office on two occasions. The first being whenever he was present in his office, I would be allowed to enter and summon him if I needed him. And the second occasion was reserved for when I clocked in and out. I guessed that Antonio counted both time punches as one occasion together.

The bathrooms followed his office. Nothing much there, just two rooms with a toilet and a sink. But the room that came next trumped them all.

It was Antonio's private room, not his office where he kept an array of books. It was a stockroom, so I was allowed back there with one exception: I was not allowed to touch his most prized possessions.

But I didn't know what his most prized possessions were. I never found out, at least not from Antonio. Right as he was about to give me a tour of this room, the bell chimed at the front of the store as new customers entered the shop. Antonio excused himself with a gruff, "I'll be right back. You can wait here, but don't touch anything."

Antonio left in a hurry to assist the customers.

I stood there in the circular room in awe, staring around at all of the items that the room contained. There were not only books but little knick-knacks and odds and ends. It was like a miniature museum of sorts.

I stepped deeper into the room, my curiosity getting the best of me. I had to have a look around. There was nothing wrong with taking a peek at all of the neat stuff in here. Antonio had just told me not to touch anything. I wouldn't get into any trouble if I kept my hands to myself, which was very hard to do.

Antonio was a true collector of unusual items and while in this room, I felt as though I had stepped into a dimension that combined the Da Vinci Code with Tomb Raider meets the world of Shakespeare. An actual codex rested inside of glass encased shelf nearby. Sparkling jeweled encrusted rings and necklaces gleamed at me from their homes and as I leaned in to take a closer look at the jewelry. One of the rings had a tag that read "Leah's Ring". If you knew Shakespeare like I knew Shakespeare then that name would stand out in your mind at once.

There is a ring in _The Merchant of Venice_ play that is referred to as Leah's ring. It was a ring that is given to a young Shylock by a woman named Leah, who Shakespearean experts believed to be the mother of Shylock's daughter, Jessica. In the play, Jessica trades the ring for a monkey and it becomes lost.

I studied the ring closely. It was a simple ring made of either silver, platinum, or white gold; it was hard for me to tell the difference between the three metals by only observing them with my naked eyes. There was three slots that were carved into the surface of the ring that looked as though they could hold three miniature crystals. It was odd considering that the receptacles for the gems were so tiny and I assumed that they had fallen out at some point during the ring's life. It looked a little dented and worn, a little old.

I looked around the room some more, fascinated. I could hear Antonio's voice coming from the front room. It sounded as if he was telling the newcomers about a book he had recently received. He seemed to quite the chatterbox whenever he was discussing something he enjoyed discussing like books and I thought that he could talk for hours if the customers allowed him to. That gave me ample amounts of time to explore. I wondered how long it would take for Antonio to return.

If nothing else, I knew then that I would enjoy working at the Merchant's Library because of all of the awesomely cool artifacts that Antonio owned. I could waste an entire day just by staring away at all of the goodies he had acquired.

Then, I saw them. The room was circular and had two floors. A ladder with wheels was leaning against the northern section and was perfect access to the second floor where they rested snugly on one of the shelves of a bookcase.

They were glowing, a pale golden color, inviting me to come up there and have a closer look. Again, I was reminded of Antonio telling me not to touch anything, but there was no harm in looking. I had to get a closer look of the glowing books. How was that possible? How were books glowing of their own natural light? It had to a some sort of trick of the light, but I guessed I would be finding out the source of the glow shortly.

I moved the ladder across the room, and it rolled easily and smoothly across the hardwood floor. Then, I took and deep breath and instead of climbing up the ladder right away, I strained my ears and listened.

Antonio was still running his mouth, which was good. And I could hear the cash reigster chiming as well. I planned to dart up the ladder and take a quick look at the glowing objects and climb back down before Antonio returned. I knew that he had only told me not to touch anything but I didn't think he would be too kind to me anymore after catching me up on the second floor.

Taking another deep breath, I scurried up the ladder.

Stepping onto the second floor, I followed the curving path around, moving quickly. I also followed the golden glow and with overwhelming intrigue I stepped up to the bookcase.

They were books, books that were basking in a golden glow as though they were forever underneath the gaze of the morning star. They were unmarked. Their spines were devoid of words and decoration, and so were their covers too, as far as I could see in their current positions. There were about fifteen in all, all sitting there and glowing.

I was confused because I couldn't figure out what was creating the light. The light seemed to be coming from the books themselves, but yet it was separate from the books as well. It was very difficult to explain. I hadn't had any experience with the occult before, but there was only one way to describe this phenomemon. It was magic.

I shook my head and laughed aloud at such a thought. Magic didn't exist. There had to be some kind of rational explanation for this. There just had to be. And I wouldn't rest until I figured out how this was occurring. Perhaps I could ask Antonio . . . .

I was about to walk back to the ladder when something occurred to me. I remembered the conversation that I had had with Will and Melody earlier that evening when Will was trying to talk me into to getting a job at the Merchant's Library in the first place. I knew that I wasn't supposed to touch anything in that room but I had to be sure. I couldn't just walk away now that the memory of that conversation had returned to me. I had to take a peek—just one peek—and find out if the glowing books were really what I believed them to be.

I looked back over my shoulder at the open door that led into the room. There was no sign of Antonio. I was too deep in the room to hear anything but that didn't stop me. I turned back around and reached one hand out tentatively. One look, I told myself. That was all I was going to take. Then, when I had the proof, I would return back downstairs and wait for Antonio. When he came back for me he would never suspect a thing.

I touched the nearest book, afraid of something terrible happening as my fingers stroked the spine. But nothing happened. The book continued to glow and even against my fingertips, it felt like an ordinary book. I slowly pulled the book away from the others, careful not to drop it. The book was delicate and I treated it that way.

Flipping the book over in my hands, I learned that I had been correct. The cover was blank. Upon a closer inspection, I could see that the book was bound in leather, like aged manuscripts. Nervous, for some strange reason, I opened the book.

A thin, slanting scrawl met me on the first page. I read closely, my eyes confirming what I had suspected all along. It was hard to make out the words on the page. Not only were they tiny and hard to read, but the words were also different in spelling and meaning than Modern English. This was the language of Shakespearean times. I was holding one of the manuscripts in my hand, manuscripts that were supposedly written by Shakespeare himself.

I couldn't believe it. They were real. I had always thought that Will had been joking about them, but here they were, as real as night and day. And then I remembered that Will couldn't lie, which meant that he couldn't tell jokes, which meant that he had been telling me the truth. I could see the truth now. It was staring me in the face.

But then again, that nagging voice in the back of mind told me that perhaps Shakespeare didn't write this glorious piece of fiction that I was reading, or any of them for that matter. The voice told me that there was a possibility that they could be fake— forgeries. There was no way for me to prove that Shakespeare had written these texts himself unless I could perform necromancy or something and resurrect the greatest playwright the world has ever known to interview him.

But magic didn't exist, so I couldn't bring Shakespeare back to verify that these manuscripts had been penned by him. And then, another thought popped into my head.

I noticed how prestine the pages were, how perfectly perserved they were, as if they had been written only yesterday. This was impossible, of course, so maybe the voice in my brain was right: Maybe these were fake manuscripts that were recently written by a Shakespeare copyist.

Nonetheless, the sight of such a document was breath-taking. The book was beautiful and the pages were beautiful. The handwriting was neat and I managed to read the title aloud. The title was located at the top of the page, written in fancy calligraphy and even fancier ink that was emerald green:

The

History of

**Henrie The Fourth**;

**With**** the battell at Shrewsburie,**

_**betweene the King and Lord Henry Percy,**_

**surnamed Henrie Hotspur of the North.**

With the humorous conceits of Sir John Falstalffe.

A symbol that was shaped like the sun was beneath the lengthy title. I was glad that scholars and publishers had shortened the title over years to _Henry IV_ because saying all of that was a mouthful. There was a border around the edge of the page, comprised of miniature circluar pictures that resembled the sun symbol.

That was all that was on the first page. I flipped to the next page and found a list of characters or the dramatis personae. Beneath that was the beginning of Act One, Scene One.

My heart thudded in my chest. I knew that I should have returned the book to its proper home and went back down the ladder. That nagging voice told me to do that much, but for some reason I couldn't move. I had to read from the page. It was as if the words had me snared and wouldn't let go until I had read at least a little bit. I felt strange as well, suddenly dizzy.

I sat down roughly and crossed my legs. I rested the heavy book upon my lap and I listened for a sign that Antonio was returning. I still couldn't hear anything. He was either still helping his customers or he was on his way back here. Either way, I knew that he would be returning soon but I couldn't put down the book. Besides, I was comfortable now, in a perfect position to read.

I could still feel the vertigo but I ignored it. Taking another steady breath and knowing I was about to do something that would probably get me fired on the first day of my new job, I read from the book. Suddenly, nothing was more important than doing so.

"Act One, scene one," I said aloud as though I was reading to an audience. "Enter the king, Lord John of Lancaster, Earl of Westmoreland, with others." Another breath. "King: So shaken as we are, so wan with care/Find we a time for frighted peace to pant/And breathe short-winded accents of new broils/To be commenced in strands afar remote . . . ."

And as I continued to read, the vertigo took over me and the room faded away around me. Before my eyes closed, I thought I saw someone enter the room. Antonio, perhaps?

And then, the darkness claimed me.


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

While Anne Hathaway slumbered, an effect on her especially from reading from the special manuscript of the play, _Henry IV_, things were stirring in the world of Shakespeare. The Dark Lady was only moments away from rejoicing in the greatest celebration of her life.

After more than a decade of research and several years of countless searching, she had at long last found them all. Her father would have been proud. She imagined the look on his face, the excitement in his eyes, if he was here that day to see an unparalleled event. Today would go down in history, as were many more days now that the Dark Lady had acquired all of the Seven Relics. She would be unstoppable. With all of her allies by her side, including the Critics, she would march into each of the Three Thrones and claim them as her own. She would rule the world of Shakespeare and those who were against her would perish, simple as that.

It had been weeks since she had traveled to uncharted territory to parlay with the mysterious Critics. Caliban and Don John had been her companions into the heart of the Critic city where they had met with Critic leaders known as the Council of Nocturne to discuss proposal for an alliance against the army of the Three Thrones—the King's Men—and the free lands that were still protected by the swordsmen known as the Sycorax, even though Caliban, their creator and leader, joined forces with the Dark Lady.

It had been weeks and yet it only seemed like yesterday when the Dark Lady had went to meet with the Critics for the first time.

Once she and the others had been granted access into the gates of the Critic territory, it had been smooth sailing then despite the Dark Lady's anxiety. As malignant and malicious as she prided herself to be, she was only human after all and sometimes, she was prone to feeling scared. However, pertaining to the Critics, she wasn't the type of scared that you would imagine her to be. Her fear hadn't stemmed from the Critics themselves because she didn't fear anyone, but rather her fear had been created from thoughts of failure. She had not wanted to fail in getting the Critics to join her rebellious cause. She needed her army to be formidable. Strength was in numbers and to be the strongest she needed more allies and that had required her to strike a deal with the Critics. Of course, they didn't lend their allegiance and their services for free. There was always a price to forming an alliance, but at least it the beat the alternative hands down. The Dark Lady would have hated to invade the lands that the Critics had claimed since they were such intelligent beings. It would have been a waste of bloodshed, an unnecessary carnage.

The Dark Lady had been surprised that the Critics had entered into an accord with her so quickly. It hadn't taken much deliberation, only a few hours maximum, and when deliberations were all said and done, the Critics had agreed with the Dark Lady's motive of conquest and the term—yes, term in the singular—of their agreement was simple: While the Dark Lady ruled the Three Thrones, they wanted to rule everything else.

It had been easy for the Dark Lady to tell the Council of Nocturne that the Critics could conquer the free lands of Shakespeare. Her response hadn't required much thought and she hadn't needed two hours to deliberate, although Caliban didn't think such a proposal was a good idea. But the Dark Lady didn't care about what Caliban thought. All she had cared about was the Three Thrones and acquiring the rest of the Seven Relics, with only two remaining to be claimed. With her entire life focused on accomplishing these two feats, the Dark Lady felt that the Critics could have the leftovers if they wanted to, after the war was over.

The Dark Lady smiled, while reflecting on the meeting with the Critics. She had intentionally not mentioned anything about the Seven Relics to the foreigners. Just like the Thrones, the Relics would belong to her and she planned to never tell the Critics about them. The less they knew, the better their arrangement would be for her and her closest, most loyal followers. Besides, why would she want to tell the Critics about the only weapons she would possess to thwart them if they broke the covenant or if she ever decided to conquer them too after she had conquered all of Shakespeare?

That wasn't the first time that that particular thought had crossed her mind. In fact, she had thought about it several times since she teaming up with the Critics weeks ago. Looking back at the history of her world, betrayal seemed to be one of the stepping stones to ultimate power and getting whatever you wanted out of life. Antony had betrayed his country by courting Cleopatra. Caesar was betrayed by his closest friends. The Dark Lady desired ultimate power, but was she so ruthless that she would betray her newest allies?

Over the course of a few weeks, the Dark Lady had forced herself into believing that she would betray the Critics only if she saw a need to. Trust wasn't an issue here because she trusted people as much as she feared them, which meant that she didn't trust the Critics as far as she could throw them. She knew that with all of her allies, it was easy for one of them to deceive her, so she was always prepared and willing to return the favor if need be.

The Critics were still ambiguous to her, even after weeks of working close together with them, scheming up their first means of revolt against the unsuspecting Three Thrones. She didn't even fully understand what they were capable of. For all she knew, the alliance they had forged with her was a fluke, a way for them to invade Shakespeare without having to do all of the work themselves. Then, afterwards, they would claim the world as their own and the Dark Lady would be serving them.

But that wasn't going to happen. The Dark Lady would never subjugate herself to be a servant of the Critics. She would rather die than to suffer such shame and dishonor. If the Critics ever had the idea of backstabbing her, she would make sure that she would be the one who performed the first stab.

As seconds passed and turned into minutes and minutes turned into at least two hours without any word from the two scouting teams, the Dark Lady's mind shifted from the Critics and returned to thoughts about the Seven Relics. She stood up from her seat and started to pace.

She was at home, in the only home that she had ever known. When her father had died, the Dark Lady had inherited his place of residence—the exquisite Lanier Castle, which was located on the outskirts of the free lands that was known as Mantua. Mantua was by the sea and had been one of the most popular vacation sites for centuries. People all around the world of Shakespeare flocked to Mantua during the spring and summer months for getaway trips, but the Dark Lady resided there year round. People came and went from Mantua but she never wanted to leave, although she knew that one-day she would have to if her dreams were to become a reality. The Lanier Castle would be left behind as a tourist attraction or her summer home and she would then become one of those people who only visited on rare occasions. Perhaps she would construct a new Lanier Castle in one of the three kingdoms that she would choose as her home. It would be a palace that was fit for a queen.

Lanier Castle had been in the Dark Lady's family for centuries and many believed it to be long since abandoned after the tragic death of Lord Lanier and his young daughter. But it wasn't abandoned, for his daughter was still alive and she wore a mask day in and day out to conceal her true identity.

Now, Lanier Castle was used as a base of operations for the Dark Lady and her growing faction. Caliban had some pull in the politics of the free lands, as leader of the Sycorax, so government officials left the castle alone. They never snooped around the premises and they never tried to purchase it from the Dark Lady's remaining family, all of whom wanted nothing to do with Lord Lanier's remaining heirloom.

The place was perfect for a hideout. It was miles away from the nearest building. It was located on the beach, with half of the structure built into the side of the cliff that jutted out into the foamy ocean—two options of escape by either traveling by boat or hiding out in the mountains and making a path through the rocky pass. And it was immense. The Dark Lady's entire army could fit inside of the castle.

She was currently in her father's old bedchamber, which she had recently claimed as her own. She had been sitting on her unnecessarily large bed, but had slid off of it to walk the length of the room, pacing back and forth, back and forth . . . .

What was taking so long? Caliban had located the last two Relics—the ring and the skull—and the Dark Lady had sent two teams out to recover them. Both teams should have been back by now. It was making her worry. Had Caliban been wrong about the locations of the ring and the skull? Had the Dark Lady led her soldiers into two traps? Prospero was a clever man—so much like the Dark Lady's father—and she would put nothing past his magical talents, especially when it pertained to the Relics. After all, hadn't Caliban told her that Prospero was linked to the Seven Relics and that there were things about them that Caliban himself couldn't understand?

They had never finished their conversation from the day that they had gone to speak with the Critics—Caliban and the Dark Lady. She had never brought it up again as she was so busy as of late with military strategies and preparing her troops for war. Caliban was also always on the move, fulfilling his role as double agent very well. Even with someone as sharp as Mercutio within the ranks of the Sycorax, the Dark Lady had faith that one day the swordsmen who protected the borders would become a part of her insurgence. Caliban was that gifted. Such a slippery man he was, full of guile beyond most people's wildest dreams.

The Dark Lady stopped pacing suddenly and peered through the holes in her mask, staring around at an empty room.

She thought for a moment and decided that Caliban was too crafty for his own good. She would have to keep a close watch on him at all times, even though she adored him and was glad that he was on her side. The Dark Lady needed more men like Caliban on her side, but the only other person that could match his skill was Othello, and he would never abandon the King's Men. If Caliban was too crafty for his own good, then Othello was too _good_ for his own good.

The Dark Lady cocked her head to the side. There were some of her men who had showed promise. As much as she hated comparing any of her followers to Caliban, she couldn't help but to do so. Caliban had set the precedence on what it meant to be devoted to serving the will of the Dark Lady and therefore, she couldn't help but to compare Caliban with others.

Iago was probably the one who showed the most potential on the side of cunning and intelligence. It was difficult to tell just how cunning and intelligent he was since he tended not to speak much, but it was a whole different ballgame watching Iago in action, manipulating people to carry out whatever he wanted them to. As far as eager to do battle was concerned, young Hotspur was the perfect commander. She was sure that he would make a good military leader and he was a part of King Henry IV's entourage. King Henry was one of the Golden Kings, ruler of one of the Three Thrones, and he would never suspect a thing once Hotspur and his allies turned on their own kingdom.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the Dark Lady's bedchamber doors. She spun around and faced the door as the knock came again.

"Enter!" she commanded, as her musings were interrupted.

The double-doors opened slowly and a woman stepped into the room. She marched with poise, her long dark hair flowing and her face cruel. She had a lot of confidence and her tongue was sharp, two things that the Dark Lady liked about her and two reasons why she was the only woman—besides the Dark Lady herself—to be a part of the rebellion so far.

"Lady Macbeth! What a present surprise! What say you on this glorious night?" The Dark Lady greeted her, sweeping across the room to meet her visitor halfway. They embraced and then, the Dark Lady looked eager to hear the purpose behind Lady Macbeth's visit.

"Milady," Lady Macbeth performed a quick bow. "I am here to tell you that I have failed in my mission and I would like to beg for your forgiveness."

Failure was not to be tolerated. There was so much at stake. Lady Macbeth's mission had been simple. She was a woman who was a master of seduction and yet, she had failed. The pleasantness that the Dark Lady had felt upon Lady Macbeth's arrival had faded. She had lost a lot of respect for Lady Macbeth, who she had always praised as being capable of carrying out her duties. But now she had one strike against her. The Dark Lady was merciful and would grant her another chance; however, if she failed again then it would be strike two and Lady Macbeth would be out—there would be no strike three. And although, she would give Lady Macbeth another opportunity to prove herself once more, it didn't mean that the Dark Lady couldn't torment her for a while. After all, she was bored with waiting to hear back from Caliban and Hostpur, who were leading the two teams to retrieve the last two Relics.

"Forgiveness?" The Dark Lady echoed, suddenly and genuinely angry. Her eyes flashed behind the mask. "Why should I forgive you when you have failed me and after so many times of success. You had an excellent track record and now it is ruined with the easiest of tasks."

"Milady," Lady Macbeth countered, after hanging her head in humiliation. "My husband is smarter than you give him credit for. Sure, he listens to me, but I believe that it is going to take a whole lot more persuasion than me utilizing my feminine wiles."

The Dark Lady scoffed. "I think that you have all of the factors of persuasion that you will ever need to get Macbeth to join us. After all, it was you who caused him to rise quickly in the Scottish military so that he could become a competent warrior. Wasn't it you who bedded the king? Surely, it wasn't Macbeth who secretly courted King Duncan."

Fury burned Lady Macbeth's face and the Dark Lady loved it. Lady Macbeth was feisty and fiery but she knew when to hold her tongue and in the presence of the Dark Lady was one of those moments that she was afraid to speak her mind.

For a moment, Lady Macbeth just stood there, her eyes blazing before she spoke again as calmly as she could muster. "Milady, I have my husband wrapped around my finger, I can assure you of that. Allow me to try again and I will not fail you a second time. You have my word."

The Dark Lady studied Lady Macbeth for a while in silence. There was so much potential there, so much anger, and so much aptitude. The Dark Lady knew that Lady Macbeth could succeed in recruiting Macbeth, there was no doubt about that. But how long would such a task take to accomplish? Currently, Macbeth was enjoying the high life of being a thane, who was constantly being honored by the elites and the common citizens of his kingdom. How long would it take for Lady Macbeth to convince him to come down off of his high horse and take a look at the people of his country and see them for who they really were? The citizens of Scotland didn't truly give a damn about Macbeth. Whenever his days of being a general were long gone, no one would remember him. Once he was done protecting his "people", then the cheers and applause that he received while out in his village would disappear altogether. It was essential that Lady Macbeth got him to see this so that he could join the Dark Lady's forces, a group of soldiers who would actually care about him and take care of him, while helping him to glory.

The Dark Lady didn't have much time to wait for this to take place for too long. War was close now; she could feel it. And she needed more military leaders. The more, the better . . . .

"You are lucky that I as lenient as I am generous," the Dark Lady spoke again in a low voice to tell Lady Macbeth that she was off the hook for her folly for now, but also that the Dark Lady meant business and such a mistake had better not happen again. "You are not a coward, Lady Macbeth. You have come to me and faced me, woman to woman, and because of that, I commend you. I will also grant you one more chance. Fail me again and . . . let's just say that I will not have mercy next time. Understood?"

Lady Macbeth bowed low. "Yes, Milady. I shall return to Scotland at once and talk to my husband."

"You will return soon enough," the Dark Lady told her. "Stay tonight and celebrate with us. The last of the Relics shall be here soon."

Lady Macbeth nodded. "If it is your will, Milady, then I shall remain here until morning."

The Dark Lady smiled, her thoughts returning to the Relics once more.

As if on cue, she heard the footsteps coming down the hallway outside of the bedchamber, for Lady Macbeth had left the doors wide open when she had entered the room. Someone was approaching. The Dark Lady wondered who her guest would be this time. She hoped that it was Touchstone bearing good news for her.

A man came to a halt in the open doorway. He wore a silly jester hat and had white makeup that cover his entire face, except for the two circles that was around both of his eyes. His real nose was concealed behind a bright red nose and he bounded excitedly when he walked. Touchstone the clown was always animated and was a good servant to the Dark Lady. She was pleased that she had such good servants and that even a figure that personified goodness as much as a clown did could be so evil. Touchstone was pure evil.

Touchstone chuckled an insane laugh but did not enter the bedroom without permission from his master. "Milady," he said in the crazed voice of a lunatic. He chuckled again. "It is time. They have returned."

"Excellent," was one of the many words that the Dark Lady could have used to describe how she felt upon hearing Touchstone speak those very words. The time had finally arrived. Too long had she been obsessed with finding the Seven Relics. Too long had she been searching, sometimes in vain it seemed just to find the precious artifacts. But no more searching. At long last, she had found them all. Tonight, they would be hers forever. Tonight was the night that the rebellion would rise and crush the kingdoms and free lands of Shakespeare.

Cool and composed, the Dark Lady restrained her excitement. She didn't want for Lady Macbeth and Touchstone to see her in such a state. She instilled fear into the hearts of her followers, not exhilaration. She couldn't drop her mentality now because if she did, she might as well take her mask off right then and there and cast it aside. But she would never do that. The mask had created the persona of the Dark Lady and it was her life now. There was no going back, which meant that she couldn't show any positive emotions. Not in the typical sense, at least. The Dark Lady's way of showing excitement would be to use the Seven Relics to destroy her enemies. Now that was excitement and . . . pleasure.

"Leave me," the Dark Lady said curtly. "Tell Caliban and the others to wait for me out in the courtyard. I will bring the other Relics with me."

Touchstone and Lady Macbeth bowed and bounced and walked swiftly out of the room. When they were gone, the Dark Lady closed the bedchamber doors behind them with a wave of her left hand and a slight twitching of her lips. Then, she swept across the room, past the four-poster bed. She stopped before a seemingly blank stone wall that was gray like a slab of metal.

She reached out a hand and touched a piece of stone with the tips of her fingers. At first, nothing happened, but then with a rumble like thunder that shook the entire bedroom, the wall slid aside to the left, revealing a secret passageway behind it.

The Dark Lady stepped down into the dark hallway and the chandeliers hanging overhead were instantly lit with magical fires that were the color of gleaming rubies. This was another reason why the Dark Lady was grateful that her father had left the Lanier Castle to her after his death, because of all of the hidden hallways and secret rooms. There were about twenty concealed passages and about seven or eight rooms that did not show up on the floorplans for the castle. The Dark Lady had explored the home herself over the past few years and had discovered most of its' secrets. There were still many that remained but the ones that she had found so far were sufficient to hide things that she didn't want anyone else to find. No one, absolutely no one in her army knew about any of the hidden chambers and hallways and she wanted to keep it that way. They say secrets don't make friends but the Dark Lady begged to differ. After all, she had made many friends by keeping secrets.

Her footsteps echoed loudly in the empty stone hallway as she walked the length of it. When she ran out of corridor, she was facing a large painting of her late father that was over seven feet wide and seven feet tall. The Dark Lady waved a hand again and the portrait—canvas, frame, and all—slid aside just like the bare wall inside of the bedroom.

Behind the portrait was a tiny room, about the size of a walk-in closet. That was where the rest of the Relics were hidden.

The Dark Lady eyed the Relics. They were all beautiful, all gleaming with a gold or silver hue. Separate, they were plain and dull, but together, they were lustrous. And the more Relics were added to the collection, the brighter the light that reflected off of the Relics. Tonight would be the brightest yet.

She waved her hand once more, twice this time, and the Relics rose high into the air around her at her silent command. A grin spread across her face slowly but she was still in denial. Were the Seven Relics about to be hers finally? It couldn't be real. It was like a dream come true. It had been her life's work and she had successfully completed it at still a fairly young age.

She turned and walked back down the passageway. It was cold and damp but inside, the Dark Lady felt completely opposite. She was very warm as if the Relics were giving off heat from their glow, as they floated in the air behind her, magically trailing her as she returned to her bedchamber and the stone opening resealed itself behind her.

The Dark Lady strode from the room, her cloak sweeping the floor behind her like a dust broom. The bedroom doors closed automatically behind her once the Relics had glided through.

The hallway that she was in now had walls that were not made of stone like the secret passageway where she had stashed each Relic after discovery and retrieval. The walls here were modernized, mostly plaster that was painted a deep crimson color. Paintings and other wall furnishings added decoration and the hallway was lit by the fiery light that was coming from the many scones that jutted out from the walls on both sides at ten feet intervals. Pale golden light illuminated this corridor and the carpeted floors were also the color of wine, trimmed in gold and white patterns that were similar to the designs one would find on wallpaper. There were also statues of armored knights and marbled busts, the typical and stereotypical décor of a fancy castle that had been owned by a man who had been very wealthy while he was alive. The Dark Lady's late father had enjoyed such artifacts but the Dark Lady herself didn't care about them at all. The Relics were the only artifacts that were significant to her, and all others were trivial and shouldn't exist in the first place.

The Dark Lady descended the stairs at the end of the hallway and entered a grandiose antechamber. Through a door and across the marbled floor of the entrance foyer and she was only feet away from stepping out into the courtyard where her entourage were waiting with the final two missing pieces to a puzzle she had been trying to complete for a long time.

She was ready and willing to wield the items that would give her ultimate power. They were legend, bedtime stories that her father had told her when she was a kid. Back then, she was skeptical, believing in the Seven Relics as much as she believed in Santa Claus, but now was different. The Relics were real and she had placed all of her faith into their abilities, as if they were a religion. She wasn't sure of their powers completely yet—what the Relics could do had not been a part of the stories her father could recite from memory. No one really knew, except for maybe Prospero and the Golden Kings, and the stories had been passed along orally for centuries so various parts were jumbled or changed. Some tales told of Five Relics, some of Thirteen Relics, and one version of the legend had one of the Relics being a rabbit's foot for good luck. The Dark Lady had scoffed when she had heard that story. She didn't need a rabbit's foot for good luck. In fact, she didn't need good luck at all. The Relics would ensure that she never had to worry about fortune again. Or fate neither.

Grinning again, she exited the castle and out into the courtyard. The Relics floated closely behind her.

Many of them were gathered outside, circling the gigantic marble fountain that marked the center of the courtyard. Caliban was there with his search team, consisting of Parolles, John Falstaff, and Don John. Hotspur was also there and standing nearby was his team—Lord Angelo, Iago, and Roderigo. Tybalt and Polonius were there, along with Lady Macbeth and Touchstone, of course. Many other familiar faces were dispersed throughout the crowd and nearly half the army was there. There were no Critics present. They would come later when it was time to ride to war.

Hotspur was smiling when the Dark Lady arrived, gloating. He was so young but brilliant. He was prone to act upon impulse, but sometimes, that was when he did his best work. And he had succeeded in recovering the skull. The skull that had the Dark Lady worried that she would never find. But there it was, in Hotspur's outstretched hands, polished and shiny like a tiny sun.

"We were wrong all along, Milday," Hotspur addressed her, speaking loudly for all to hear. The Dark Lady swept towards him and the Relics followed her. They were now enclosed in diaphanous globes that shielded them from summoning charms and any other spells that anyone in the crowd could conjure if any one of them got the impression that he could steal from the Dark Lady. She trusted no one and Hotspur shouldn't hold the skull out like that. He needed to be more careful. So young . . . .

"Calm down, young Hotspur," The Dark Lady told him. "Tell me what we were wrong about because I am seldom wrong."

"Prince Hamlet didn't know anything about the skull," Hotspur announced eagerly. "He wasn't a threat at all."

"Then how did—"

"The King," Hotspur answered the Dark Lady's question before she had a chance to ask it. "King Hamlet knew all about the skull. It is special, you see. This particular Relic liked to migrate, change heads so to speak. It was apart of the protection that Prospero had established years ago. The power within moved from skull to skull, usually taking residence inside of the cranial remains of a person who recently died in the Golden Kingdom of Denmark. The Golden Skull used to belong to a close friend of the King, who died several weeks ago of a stroke. But now the enchantment is broken and it belongs to you. King Hamlet made sure of it before he took his last breath."

Behind the mask, the Dark Lady's eyes widened. Even more good news. Tonight was a good night, the beginning of many more nights to come that would hopefully be just as pleasant.

"So, the deed is done then?' The Dark Lady asked. "Claudius has successfully destroyed King Hamlet?"

Hotspur nodded. "Yes, Milady. The other Golden Kings are aware of Hamlet's untimely and tragic death." Hotspur grinned even broader. "Prince Hamlet is on his way home from Wittenberg even as we speak; however, it is no use. Claudius and Gertrude have convinced the other Kings that the prince is in no right mind to rule the kingdom, with his current . . . mental state. The Kings are convinced and they have decided to name Claudius king, replacing his brother. Tomorrow's the coronation. We are all invited of course, especially you, Milady."

"Flattering and tempting," the Dark Lady said. "But the King's Men would be all over me the moment I showed my face—or my concealed face—anywhere near the celebration tomorrow. I'll have the good Polonius send the new king my regards."

Out in the crowd, Polonius looked smug.

"You can give me your regards in person, Milady," a voice cried out from somewhere in the crowd. A rushing of hooves followed and quickly, the crowd dispersed, creating a narrow break where several men rode through on horseback. Claudius led the pack and he came to a halt before the Dark Lady and Hotspur and climbed down from his steed.

Claudius was a devilishly handsome man with wavy jet-black hair and boyish good looks. He was strong and strapping and not to mention, dashing. Ladies swooned over him because of his charm, but not the Dark Lady. She hadn't recruited Claudius for some ridiculous high school crush, although she admired his cunning and how persuasive he could be. He had used such skills to seduce Queen Gertrude, the wife of his beloved, and now late, brother, Hamlet. Their affair was kept a secret for many years but there was no need to keep up their charade anymore now that the king was dead. Queen Gertrude had even had a hand in Hamlet's death, which was marvelous. Perhaps she was on her way to becoming the second female member of the Dark Lady's band of anarchists.

"Lord Claudius," the Dark Lady had to admit that she was surprised to see him there so soon after the demise of his older brother. "Or should I say, _King_ Claudius." A few people out in the crowd gave great hoorays in salute to Claudius, while others applauded briefly, commending Claudius on his new status in society. "I am curious to know how and why you are here? Shouldn't you be . . . mourning?"

Claudius flashed a dazzling smile. "I left Gertrude to mourn, Milady. She is to meet up with Prince Hamlet upon his arrival. When I could leave, I seized the opportunity, telling my new court that I needed to be alone to grieve the loss of my brother for a night. Then, I took a handful of my closest men, men who are already devoted to our cause, Milady, and I came here to see you as swiftly as I could. I did not want to miss such a glorious night. Tonight is the night that myth becomes reality." The Relics caught his attention and he looked at them all. "The Seven Relics," he announced breathlessly, as though no one in the group was aware of the glowing objects.

"Right you are, o glorious king," the Dark Lady said. "I am glad that you could make it tonight."

The Dark Lady turned away from him as Claudius walked back across the courtyard to rejoin his entourage. The Dark Lady took the skull away from Hotspur, who gave it to her freely, like an offering to a great deity. Tonight, the Dark Lady would have an apotheosis. She would become a goddess.

The Dark Lady held the skull up and the gathering thrust their swords into the air and gave a great noise that resembled a war cry. Then, she turned to face the five floating Relics and tossed the skull into the air. It twisted and spun around like a baseball before joining its brethrens, shielded just like the others.

The Dark Lady approached Caliban then. He and his team had been responsible for recovering the lost ring, one of the Seven Relics. She was eager to have it. Everything would be complete. The time had come to take the Three Thrones.

"Milady," Caliban growled simply, holding out a closed fist. The Dark Lady reached out a hand and something tiny, round, and silver fell into it. That was it. She had the final Relic in her hands.

The Dark Lady held up the ring as if to inspect it. It glowed even more in the moonlight from the full moon overhead. More cheers erupted from those who were watching. The Dark Lady glanced over at Caliban, waiting to hear if he had something to tell like Hotspur did, a story of how he and his team had acquired the ring. But like always, Caliban was silent, his face inert.

But it didn't matter. The Dark Lady wasn't concerned with another story. She faced the other Relics and released the ring. It drifted, shrinking the distance between it and the rest of the Relics. Everyone watched, holding his or her breaths. It was an epic scene, straight out of a—

Without warning, there was aloud explosion that struck the side of the castle. Everyone ducked and stared up at the Relics, wondering what was happening. The Dark Lady dove out of the way as huge chunks of rock fell from the castle's façade, showering her and most of her army in dust and debris.

The Dark Lady stood up quickly, standing tall, her posture straight and stiff with anger pulsating through her. She was confused, pondering what was going on. She hated to not be in control of any situation and she was definitely not in control of this situation anymore.

In mid-air, the Seven Relics gleamed brighter and brighter, twisting and turning like tornados. They spun around faster and faster, blurring and distorting as they moved. The Dark Lady stood rigid, watching.

Tybalt stepped up to her. "Milady, should we—"

The Dark Lady shook head. "No," she said with so much authority that Tybalt's face flashed the fear that he felt already from the spectacle that was taking place above them. He froze as well, watching as the plot thickened.

The Dark Lady looked over at Caliban suddenly. "Is this supposed to happen?"

Caliban shrugged.

"Is this another one of Prospero's enchantments?"

"I don't know, Milady. I was thinking that—"

Another explosion. This one didn't destroy part of the castle, but it seemed to have destroyed the Relics. They slowly faded from view; the shield charm that the Dark Lady had placed on them had long since vanished. They were now taken by a different form of magic, a more powerful form of magic that was unknown to the Dark Lady or any one of the people who surrounded her, awaiting some kind of command.

"What's happening?!" The Dark Lady shrieked in outrage, staring at Caliban. "I need to know what is going on right now!"

Caliban didn't respond. He was one of the extremely few people who could defy the Dark Lady's demand and live to tell about it. Caliban's disobedience was trivial compared to the disappearance of the Relics—her prides and joys. They were her whole life. She had only possessed all for a few minutes and now they were leaving her. The worse thing about it was that she didn't know why.

Then, they were gone.

Golden and silver lights seemed to form in its place, drifting down from the stars themselves. The golden and silver lights filled the sky, intertwined as one and inventing a new color that was impossible to duplicate. The lights formed a huge shape, nearly as large as the moon for all in the courtyard to see, along with all of the citizens of Shakespeare.

Caliban laughed, a cold, high-pitched laugh that was neither good nor evil, but somewhere in between.

The Dark Lady rounded on him. She was devastated but she kept her composure. "What are you laughing about?" she demanded, anger exploding out of her like those two previous blasts before the Relics had vanished. "There is nothing funny about this!"

"The Prophecy; it is true," Caliban said simply.

"What Prophecy?"

"The Royal Beacons are lit," Caliban said, again simply.

"Are you referring to the Prophecy that the Sycorax believe in?" The Dark Lady wanted to know so that she could laugh in amusement at such a stupid myth. Unlike the Relics, the Prophecy of the Sycorax was not real.

Caliban nodded. "The very one."

"It is not true!" The Dark Lady lashed out at Caliban. Several of her men cowered, scrambling over one another to get out of her way as she unleashed a path of destruction in her wake while sweeping towards Caliban. "It is not true," she repeated in a softer voice, stopping inches away from him. "And even if it was, what does it have to do with the Seven Relics? In case you hadn't noticed, they are gone. Gone! And I want to know why. I want to know of the way to get them back. What does the Prophecy have to do with the Relics?"

"Everything," was Caliban's response.

The Dark Lady was frozen again. She was thinking, her mind was racing. Then, she looked up into the night sky. The stars glittered, but were nothing compared to the light mass that had joined them, spectacular with effulgence that was dazzling. It was a crown, a three-pronged crown of gold-silver. The words, _the Royal Beacons are lit_ echoed in her thoughts as she tried to figure out what to do next, where to go from here.

Disgusted, the Dark Lady faced her army like the brave leader that she was. "I want to know as soon as possible what has caused the Relics to disappear tonight. Claudius?"

Claudius stepped forward, eager for the assignment that the Dark Lady was about to give him. "Yes, Milady."

"When you are crowned King of Denmark in the morning, it is your duty to question the other Golden Kings about your new status. I want you to find out from them all they know about the spells that Prospero has put on the Relics. I want them back to me within a fortnight."

Claudius nodded and bowed. It would take some getting used to him bowing to her now that he would be king. After all, she should be bowing to him. "If it is you will, Milady," Claudius said. He stalked off towards his horse, ready to ride back from the free lands to his recently acquired kingdom.

"Don't you get it, Milady," Caliban said, as Claudius and his bodyguards rode off into the night. "The Prophecy. The Relics. They are all tied together. This is not some protection of Prospero. This is something greater. If you are to reacquire the Relics, then you are going to have to find the one who the Prophecy speaks of. He or she will be the key to finding the Relics now. That person is the proper—"

The Dark Lady held up a gloved hand, silencing him. "Enough!" She roared. "I need to speak with you Caliban in private now. It is time that we continue the conversation that we had before speaking to the Critics. I want to know everything you know and everything that you can speculate about. I want to know what is going on."

Caliban didn't say anything. He just stared at the Dark Lady, expressionless.

"Hotspur!" The Dark Lady called into the throng of soldiers.

Hotspur stepped away from the crowd, separating himself from the rest so that the Dark Lady could view him better. He was just as eager as Claudius had been to serve the Dark Lady's will.

"Yes, Milady."

"I want you to find our old friend, Owen Glendower, and tell him to gather his forces. Despite my loss tonight and a major setback, the storm is still brewing. We will ride to war soon enough. Inform the Critics that we need to meet when they are able. It is nearly time for us to start the invasion. We will begin with England. Civil strife has plagued the kingdom for years and King Henry won't expect a third party to enter into the fray."

Hotspur grinned. "Glendower shouldn't be too hard to find. I'll make it my top priority, Milady."

With fleeting eyes, the Dark Lady took one last glance at the crown in the sky. Prophecy or no Prophecy, the Seven Relics belonged to her and she would find them all again, even if it took another ten years. She had been patient before and she would try to be patient again. But first, she had to learn all that she could about the Prophecy of the Sycorax. Caliban was withholding information and that was not good.

He was her best servant, yet he was the only one who had the greatest potential of betraying her.

From that point forward, the Dark Lady planned to keep a close eye on Caliban, like she had decided to do earlier in her bedroom. He was never to be trusted again and if she ever had the slightest inclination that he had jumped ship, then she would dispose of him herself.

Far away from the free lands of Mantua and in the heart of the Three Thrones, a beautiful place where the three kingdoms of England, Denmark, and Scotland met, Robin Goodfellow was enjoying himself by playing a royal march on his flute.

He had seen the golden-silver crown that now lit up the night sky like the brightest of the brightest stars and for a split-second he had thought that morning had come about ten hours early. Once his eyes—which were always wide with glee and mischief—had seen the crown and he had realized that it was still night, his excitement meter had skyrocketed. To be sure, he had dashed out of his current home to gaze at not only the gigantic crown, but also off in the distance at the seven Royal Beacons that were illuminating the path that led to the sanctuary of the King's Men. Four golden flames and three silver flames, each brilliant with blazing vitality. They didn't look as though they had remained unlit for centuries with so much life now.

Overtaken by joy, Robin, or Puck as he liked to be called, had raced through the streets, awaking all who would hear his cries and cheers. "The Royal Beacons are lit! The Royal Beacons are lit!" It wasn't "The British are coming!" that he had screamed but it had gotten most of the town out of bed like Paul Revere had.

Sleepy and slightly perturbed, they had yelled back at Puck, trying to convince him to cut the racket and return home. But Puck didn't return home. He had half-ran, half-flew from building to building, yelling and screaming at the top of his lungs.

"The Royal Beacons are lit! The Royal Beacons are lit!"

The demeanor of the denizens of the town changed instantly once they had seen what Puck was hollering about. They flooded the streets, amazed, their eyes going back and forth from crown to the Beacons, and back again.

Someone had suggested that Prospero be alerted at once. Puck had volunteered to go to Prospero's palace and notify the leader of the King's Men. Although Puck didn't see a reason to tell Prospero because the great magician seemed to know everything, he was up for such a task to get a closer look at the Royal Beacons. It was Viola who had made the suggestion. Initially, she was going to tagalong with Puck, but Rosalind decided to go with him. Together, the two of them had set off for the palace that Prospero and the King's Men called home.

Now, they were walking through the maze of hedges to reach the courtyard of the palace. The two of them—Puck and Rosalind. Rosalind led the way, her chocolate brown hair blowing in the breeze behind her. Puck walked with enough distance between them so that her swinging hair wouldn't interrupt his jolly song. He played the march precisely as it should be played, fast and steady. Rosalind looked back at him, irritated.

"Robin, can you stop playing your flute for two seconds? It's really annoying," she snapped at him. He had known Rosalind for quite some time now and they had never really gotten along, although they were similar in the fact that the two of them had a great sense of humor. But apparently, the sense of humor that they shared wouldn't help at the moment.

Puck did as he was told, although he was not complying with Rosalind's outburst. He had stopped playing because she had offended him—but again, not because of her outburst. "Don't call me, Robin," Puck told her, snapping back. "My name is Puck."

Rosalind rolled her eyes. "Right, Puck. I'm sorry. What was I thinking?"

"You weren't," Puck said. "But who cares. Tonight is a happy night and you are not going to ruin it."

Rosalind sighed as Puck started to play his tune again. She would have to tolerate it until they reached the palace. Either that, or she would murder Puck first. She could totally catch him off guard and he wouldn't see it coming. He was too busy playing his flute like some kind of a cheerful piper. Wait a second . . . She didn't have to murder him. She had another arsenal of weapons available to her. Of course, Puck could easily retrieve the flute after she did it but it would still be amusing and distract him for a moment.

Rosalind spun around slowly and Puck barely dodged around her to prevent from bumping into her. He continued to play his march until—

Rosalind raised a hand and shot a spell at Puck. The spell struck the flute and pushed it out of his hand. The flute flew across a row of hedges several feet away.

Rosalind roared with laughter and Puck looked up at her, slightly dejected. "What did you do that for?" He went to retrieve the flute by flying over the hedge, flapping his little wings madly, looking like an overgrown hummingbird.

"You wouldn't stop playing that annoying song," Rosalind said in between roars of laughter. "Besides, it was hilarious. Admit it, it was funny, wasn't it?"

Puck snatched up the flute. "It was most certainly not funny," he told Rosalind, using a part of his shirt to dust off his beloved instrument. "You got it all dirty."

"And now, you're whining about it," Rosalind sighed and stalked on. "Jeez, you act like a small child sometimes. You like to joke around but you never like to be the brunt of the joke. What are you going to do now—cry about it?"

Puck shook his head and trailed after her. "Get even," he mumbled.

There was a flash of green light and Rosalind went screaming and sprawling to the grass, tripped up by some unseen force.

"Robin!" she shrieked in outrage, while Puck chuckled merrily. "That's not funny!"

"Now, you know how it feels," Puck taunted her. "And the name's Puck, not Robin."

He started playing his march again and Rosalind climbed to her feet, spitting grass blades out of her mouth. Puck led the way this time and Rosalind fell back, muttering angrily under her breath and looking like she rather have had someone else as her companion to see Prospero other than Puck. As a fairy, he was always inclined to the stereotype of causing all kinds of mischief, but he was also the most annoying person that Rosalind had ever met. How he became a member of the King's Men was beyond her. Maybe Prospero had allowed him to join in special favor from Oberon. Maybe. But from what Rosalind understood about Puck and Oberon's relationship was that Oberon was as fond of Mr. Goodfellow as she was, and she had to immediately debunk her own theory. Perhaps Prospero just wanted to have Puck be a member of the King's Men to convince more fairies to join. It sounded like the type of campaign Prospero would be advocate about. He was all about better relations between humans and fairies.

Rosalind scoffed then, a little too loudly. If all fairies were like Puck, then she hoped that none of them ever joined the King's Men. She was already having enough of a time trying to prove herself in an army that was dominated by men. Some of the male soldiers didn't take too kindly to a woman being a part of the only protection of the Three Thrones, and they especially didn't like the fact that Prospero's daughter, Miranda, held an honorary seat on The Council of Seven.

Miranda's position was basically a figurehead position and she had no real say-so in the decisions made by the King's Men, the Sycorax, and the fairy air force known as Fairy Wings. But oh how Rosalind would have murdered someone to hold such a position within the King's Men. If she were a member of the council, then she would make the figurehead position a real one. She would openly voice women's rights to become soldiers if they truly desired and she would vote for more women being allowed to join. Her friends Celia and Viola were excellent fighters and could serve the King's Men well if they were given a chance.

But they weren't. In fact, besides Desdemona, whose father had influence in the King's Men and all sorts of bureaucratic affairs throughout the kingdoms that were ruled by the Three Thrones, Rosalind believed that she was the only female soldier. She had tried and failed to convince Viola and Celia to join the Sycorax, who could use their skills and were accepting women as much as men—Caliban was definitely not a sexist leader—but they never would oblige to do so. Their hearts belonged to wanting to join the King's Men and fight alongside their good friend. Rosalind commended them on their dedication but she knew that it was almost unattainable feat for the King's Men to recruit them. After all, Rosalind had been recruited for the fact that she was good at impersonating males with her alter-ego, Ganymede.

When Rosalind had tried to explain to Celia and Viola that this was the reason why she had been chosen to join the ranks of the King's Men, Viola had laughed and told her that perhaps she should cross dress as well. Viola was certain that she could make herself look just like her twin brother, Sebastian . . . .

Puck's silly song snapped Rosalind out of her thoughts. She was fed up. "Hey, _Puck_," she called, making sure that she put enough emphasis on the name that he liked to be called. "Can you please give it a rest for a while? I beg of you. You're giving me a headache and I am out of medicinal potion, so can you please?"

Puck thought for a moment and then, stopped playing the flute. "Well," he considered it with an impish grin, "since you asked so nicely and since you said my . . . true name, I will stop playing. For now." Then, he started jumping up and down like an wound up toddler whose parent was about allow him or her to have some candy. "I'm just so excited. Believe it or not, the fairies have been waiting for this moment for a very long time now. I think that some of us have even wanted this to happen more so than you humans."

"What?" Rosalind asked absently. "You've been waiting for the Royal Beacons to be lit? I thought it was just some hocus-pocus that the Sycorax believed, a prophecy that may or may not be true."

Puck nodded. "I have been waiting. And the prophecy is real; I know it." Then, he looked at Rosalind, inquiringly. "Are you a skeptic?"

"No," Rosalind responded automatically.

"You don't believe in the Prophecy of the Sycorax, do you?"

Rosalind laughed a laugh that wasn't very convincing. She just hoped that Puck hadn't noticed. "Of course I believe in the prophecy. All of the people of Shakespeare believe in the prophecy. It is a part of our entire world, the meaning for our existence. If I didn't believe in the Prophecy of the Sycorax, then I wouldn't be walking through this labyrinth of vegetation with an annoying fairy to tell Prospero about the Royal Beacons."

Puck seemed convinced and Rosalind breathed a sigh of relief. Everyone knew about the prophecy, or at least parts of it. There was so much mystery surrounding the prophecy and things had been altered so much over time that it was almost a legend like the Seven Relics. Rosalind didn't believe that the Seven Relics existed and she didn't really place much faith in the prophecy either. Nonetheless, she wanted it to be real. The world of Shakespeare was so divided, even though most of the countries were at peace with one another, and Rosalind just wanted unity. They were all Shakespearean and not just English or Venetian or Illyrian or even Roman.

For what she knew about the prophecy, a great king, descendant of the creator of the world of Shakespeare, would return someday after the Royal Beacons were lit. The new king would lead the world and unite all of the twenty-four known realms of Shakespeare, including Fairyland, the magical place where the fairies and magic are said to come from, and Sarmartia, the land of the Amazons.

That was the extent of Rosalind's knowledge. She wished she knew more but then again, she didn't think that she would care about any of the other details about the prophecy. If the prophecy was real, then uniting Shakespeare was all that she cared about. She wondered where the supposed descendant and king was now. The Royal Beacons had ignited minutes ago, so had that great king finally arrived? Had he just been born or did he arrive in the world from another world? Rosalind had heard that there were other worlds outside of Shakespeare, her home, other worlds with people similar to her own. The king had to have come from another world. He couldn't have been recently born because it would take years for him to be able to lead a country, let alone an entire world.

But then, Rosalind shook her head. The prophecy wasn't real. It couldn't be. Then she had to really ask herself what she was doing there, approaching the palace with a companion like Puck. The answer came to her like a lightning strike.

Rosalind was there because she hoped that bringing good news to Prospero would advance her rank in the King's Men, and then hopefully she would be able to persuade her revered leader to allow Celia and Viola to fight along side her. But Rosalind was still only a Page now. Would she have that much pull in the knighthood if she became a Squire after tonight's deed?

Rosalind shook her head again and Puck didn't notice that she was lost in thought—he was too busy skipping along merrily as they continued to draw nearer to the beautiful palace.

Back to Rosalind's thoughts . . . She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Prospero probably still wouldn't listen to her if she leveled up in the King's Men but she would at least try to make her voice be heard.

Rosalind was resolute when her and Puck walked up the golden steps of the palace. At the top, they found two fairies hovering just outside of the golden doors of the entrance. Rosalind knew they were members of Fairy Wings at once, although she had never seen them before. Puck, on the other hand, knew the two fairies well. He stopped skipping immediately and his mouth fell open with shock. One of the fairies—the one that had jet-black hair—spotted the arrival of Rosalind and Puck and she grinned before tapping her companion on the shoulder. Her companion had flaming red hair.

"Well, look who it is, Cobweb," the fairy with red hair spoke loudly so that Puck and Rosalind could hear her. "If it isn't our friend, Robin Goodfellow."

Puck rolled his eyes, more so at the mention of his given name than the sight of two of his old . . . "friends", if he could even call them that.

"I don't believe it," the one called Cobweb—Rosalind had nearly chuckled at hearing such a peculiar name and was now staring dumbfounded when she realized that the fairy with black hair was really named Cobweb—said with a grin that Rosalind usually saw on Puck's face. "Robin Goodfellow. You have done pretty well for yourself. A member of the King's Men and all."

"For the last time, my name is Puck, not Robin Goodfellow," Puck nearly screamed in outrage. Cobweb and her friend laughed. "What are you two doing here? Cobweb? Peaseblossom?"

"We accompanied our most honorable queen here, of course," the one called Peaseblossom told him.

"_Titania_?" Puck shrieked, dropping his flute. It fell and bounced down a few of the golden steps and he ignored it. "Titania is here?"

"_Queen _Titania is here," Peaseblossom said. "The Council of Seven has convened for an emergency meeting. They are discussing whether or not it would be wise to send a diplomatic party to speak with the Critics. Apparently, King Duncan wants to know why they are here and why they have lived separate from us for months now."

Rosalind looked over at Puck. "For a moment there, I thought that they already knew about the Royal Beacons."

Puck nodded in agreement.

Apparently, Cobweb didn't hear what Rosalind had said. She was too busy staring at Rosalind with a look of slight disgust on her face. Rosalind turned to face her and wondered why Cobweb was staring at her. Rosalind's hand felt the tip of the hilt of her sword and then, Cobweb looked away, her eyes darting back to Puck.

"Who's the human?" Cobweb asked. "Is this is why you joined the King's Men with Oberon, Puck? For human companionship?"

Rosalind was confused. Puck shook his head.

"It's nothing like that," Puck quickly defended himself. "I would never do something like that. That's just gross."

Puck's retort to Cobweb's question confused Rosalind even more. What were they talking about? Human companionship? Rosalind thought for a moment and then, slowly realization dawned on her. She knew what the fairies were talking about and she quickly agreed with Puck. That _was_ gross.

"Rosalind here is just escorting . . . I mean, going with me to speak to Prospero. In case you two didn't notice—the Royal Beacons are lit!" He spun around dramatically and pointed out in the center of the courtyard where the seven torches, floating high in the air, were lit by golden and silver fires. Above them, even higher, was the sparkling and shimmering crown.

Simultaneously, Cobweb and Peaseblossom looked at each other, their eyes wide. Peaseblossom pointed along with Puck. "Those are the Royal Beacons?" she cried amazed. "I had no idea. Did you, Cobweb?"

Cobweb shook her head four times. "No, Peaseblossom. I had no idea. I knew about the Royal Beacons, but I didn't know that they were . . . well, _there_."

Puck lowered his arm. "That is why we are here. We are going to let the Council know about the Beacons. If they are in the conference room, then there is no way for them know that something wonderful has happened." He smiled.

Cobweb looked at him, barely able to take her eyes off of the Beacons and the crown in the sky. "We're coming with."

"And let you two try to take all of the glory?" Puck asked rhetorically. "I don't think so." He glanced at Rosalind. "Come on, Rosalind, let's go."

Together, Rosalind and Puck stepped up to the large golden doors. Since they were members of the King's Men, the doors opened up for them automatically. Cobweb and Peaseblossom flew in closely behind them because the doors were already swinging shut as Rosalind and Puck stepped through them. The doors closed with a loud bang and Peaseblossom looked back over her shoulders to make sure that the doors hadn't clipped her wings as she flew into the palace.

They entered the entrance hall. It was empty and dark. Rosalind looked up at the chandelier dangling high above them beneath the glass dome that looked out at the stars and the moon. Rosalind raised a hand, muttered a spell and the chandelier was lit, lighting the path that they would need to make it upstairs to the conference room.

Rosalind led the way with Puck nearly right beside her. He was back to prancing again, something Rosalind could tolerate because he was not playing that awful flute. He had left the flute outside and Rosalind made a mental note not to tell him where he had misplaced it if he asked her about it later.

Peaseblossom and Cobweb trailed them, glancing around at the splendid interior of the palace in awe. They had never set foot inside of the headquarters to the King's Men before, although they had accompanied Titania there loads of times. It was not that Titania had forbid them to enter; they just never wanted to because they didn't enjoy being around humans much. There was a mutual tolerance between humans and fairies that had been going on for years, ever since the climactic last battle of the Fairy Wars decades ago. But humans and fairies have been known to not like one another very much.

For years prior to the Fairy Wars, the humans had treated the fairies as slaves, ever since their arrival from Fairyland during the time of the great Roman Empire that was ruled by the tyrant, Julius Caesar, who had declared himself the descendant of the creator, the king of kings, through Divine Right. Even after the fairies were emancipated years later and after they had received the same rights as humans, the fairies continued to regard the humans as oppressors and the humans continued to think of the fairies as slaves. The Fairy Wars broke out and the rest was history. Discord was still present between the two parties but as long as Fairy Wings worked together with the King's Men and the Sycorax, then there would never be another full-scale war again. A lot had changed over time and today, there were even some fairies, like Puck, who enjoyed the company of humans, and vice versa. There was some who didn't look at the other race with prejudice. Cobweb and Peaseblossom were not one of those fairies. Because of their upbringing, they couldn't help but to feel resentment towards humans for a past of enslavement. Even Titania didn't fully trust humans as much as Oberon did. That was why she had never joined the King's Men with her husband and Puck.

The conference room was just off the second-floor landing. Two members of the King's Men stood sentinel before the entrance. They twitched the moment that their eyes caught sight of Rosalind and the others and their swords were drawn at once. They stepped forward to meet the foursome.

"Laertes? Benvolio? At ease, good fellows," Puck greeted them gaily. Rosalind couldn't figure out how he could grin so much, as if everything was one great big joke. "It is I, young Puck, traveling with the maiden, Rosalind, and the fairies, Cobweb and Peaseblossom."

Benvolio returned Puck's smile and sheathed his sword. Laertes copied him, but only in putting away his blade. The look on his face was far from inviting.

"Good morrow, Puck and Rosalind," Benvolio greeted, happy to have some company other than the downcast Laertes, while standing guard for the Council. "What brings you here so early in the morning? The sun is not due to rise for quite some time still."

"We are here to alert the Council," Rosalind spoke up before Puck could.

Laertes looked up then, mildly interested. "Of what?" he said gruffly.

Puck regarded him. "What's up with you, Laertes?" he questioned him curiously, forgetting for a moment why he and Rosalind were there with Peaseblossom and Cobweb anyway. "You seem a little under the weather." Puck chuckled and looked at Cobweb and Peasebottom. "You get it? He looks downcast. Under the weather."

Cobweb laughed sardonically. "It's not funny if you have to explain the joke," she told Puck.

Puck glowered for only a moment before he watched Laertes, waiting for him to respond.

But Laertes didn't answer Puck's question; he just stared daggers at the fairy. It was Benvolio who replied.

"Don't mind old Laertes here," Benvolio said with a chuckle, his plump cheeks forever rosy and jovial. He was one of the few soldiers who really liked Puck. Puck wasn't annoying to him. Puck liked having a good time and Benvolio liked having a good time, so why not have a good time together? "He's just upset because his sister is getting pretty cozy with Prince Hamlet."

Laertes shot Benvolio a dirty look this time. "You would be too if you knew that your sister was interested in a prince who was so self-absorbed that he didn't even fight his uncle to claim the throne of Denmark after his father's death."

"Ophelia and Hamlet?" Puck echoed, not hearing nor comprehending what Laertes had just said. Peaseblossom and Cobweb were looking around at the humans, trying to understand what was going on. "Who would have thought?"

"Puck," Rosalind called in sheer exasperation; she hadn't heard what Laertes had said as well. "We don't have time for this. We have to enter the conference room and talk to Prospero."

Puck seemed to remember then. "Oh yeah, right. Benvolio, my friend, we need into the conference room, please?"

Benvolio eyes fell away from Puck and he looked down at the floor, as if ashamed. "I'm sorry Puck, but no one can enter until the meeting is adjourned. Prospero's orders."

Puck understood. "Well then, I guess that we have to wait out here until the discussions are over. Do you guys want to hear a song?" And he groped around for his flute, wondering where he had stashed it. Rosalind purposefully ignored him.

"How long do Council of Seven meetings normally last?" Rosalind asked Benvolio conversationally, while Puck continued to search for his lost flute. Inside, Rosalind was smiling, but on the outside, she kept a straight face trying to hard not to laugh at Puck's misfortune because the temptation was there.

Benvolio shrugged. "Sometimes a few minutes, sometimes hours. One time, and I heard this from my cousin, Romeo, so I don't know if this is actually true or not, but one time, one of the Council meetings lasted for seventeen hours." He cocked his head in thought. "I can't remember what Romeo said they were talking about but he and Michael Cassio had to stand guard for—"

"Seventeen hours?" Rosalind cut Benvolio off, just as he was repeating those two words. Her voice was shrill from shock.

Benvolio nodded.

"We don't have seventeen hours to wait," Rosalind told him and Puck seemed to have forgotten about his flute for the time being as he watched her step towards Benvolio and Laertes. Cobweb and Peaseblossom floated nearby, simple observers, and Rosalind was actually surprised that they hadn't spoke much. "We have to talk to Prospero and to the Council now."

"Did you not hear what Benvolio said, Rosalind?" Laertes piped up once again. "Prospero says that no one is to enter that room while the Council is there. End of discussion."

"Not even if the Royal Beacons are lit," Rosalind said casually.

Rosalind was used to the reactions from such news that the current look on Benvolio's face didn't surprise her at all. Even Laertes was looking curious, that is to say if a scowling face could look curious.

Benvolio chuckled like Puck had made a fool of himself or something and Rosalind stared at him, waiting. Time was ticking by. Even though she didn't know how she truly felt about the prophecy, the sooner they could speak with Prospero, the quicker she could see some action and hopefully, a promotion.

"You're kidding, right?" Benvolio looked back and forth between Rosalind and Puck. His eyes even flickered over at Cobweb and Peaseblossom. Cobweb narrowed her eyes at him spitefully and Benvolio looked back at Puck and Rosalind.

Rosalind shook her head. "I am not kidding. The entire town is outside right now, watching, and they can all bear witness to this extraordinary event. The Royal Beacons are burning bright, even though they hadn't blazed with glory for a long time now. And there is even a crown in the sky that seems to be made out of the stars themselves or fairy dust." Rosalind shot a fleeting glance over at Peaseblossom and Cobweb, who were both looking smug.

Benvolio turned to Laertes, who seemed to be in charge here. He did outrank Benvolio in the King's Men.

Laertes stared at Rosalind and Puck for a long while. "If you two are lying, then Prospero's anger shall be severe."

Laertes stepped aside and Rosalind and Puck walked up to the doors—these were silver and not gold. It was funny to Rosalind how their party kept growing. At first, it was just she and Puck, then Peaseblossom and Cobweb had joined them outside of the palace. Now, Benvolio was trailing them too, eager to attend this new meeting and find out what Prospero and the Council had to say about the Royal Beacons.

Rosalind tentatively rapped on the silver doors for lack of not knowing what else to do. Benvolio rolled his eyes. "You can enter, you know? They're unlocked."

"Oh, right," Rosalind said, suddenly nervous. Before now, she had never had an opportunity or a want to interrupt a Council of Seven meeting. She hesitated and could feel the eyes of the others behind her, wondering if she was brave enough to open the doors. Rosalind took a steadying breath, ignored the stares, and pushed the doors.

The Council continued their discussion when Rosalind and the others entered. They were convened in the center of the chamber, seven golden seats that were arranged facing each other in a circle. Rosalind stepped deeper into the room and her companions followed her closely like four shadows.

The Council of Seven was not complete, although all seven seats were occupied—four for the King's Men, two for the Sycorax, and one representing Fairy Wings. The members of the Council were as followed: Representing the King's Men was Prospero, his daughter, Miranda, Oberon, and Othello; Representing the Sycorax was Caliban and Mercutio; and for the Fairy Wings was Titania. Rosalind noticed immediately that neither Caliban nor Othello was present. Orlando was sitting in Caliban's usual seat as a replacement and Rosalind gasped when she saw whom Othello had picked as a temporary Councilman. Desdemona was sitting on the left side of Prospero and Rosalind was surprised that Othello hadn't sent his friend Michael Cassio in his stead, but was glad that Desdemona was there nonetheless. There were two women on the Council tonight. Even though, Desdemona's seat was temporary, this was still unprecedented.

It was Rosalind's gasp that alerted everyone to the arrival of her and Puck, along with Benvolio, Peaseblossom, and Cobweb. Rosalind noted that there were more people present in the conference room besides the Council as well. Ariel, the spirit girl, hovered inches behind Prospero's chair like the faithful servant that she was. Rosalind didn't know much about her but she knew that Ariel was an unusual being. Spirits, ghosts, apparitions, or whatever they were known as these days were pretty common in the world of Shakespeare and Rosalind had caught wind of stories of several hauntings from travelers that passed through these parts from time to time, especially travelers from the free lands. Rumor even had it that the territory of Old Rome was haunted by ghosts of dead Roman soldiers and Rosalind believed that because Old Rome was a ghost town anyway, its old splendor had long since disappeared. But Ariel was different than the spirits of the tales that Rosalind had heard. It was as if she had been created from magic itself, which was a safe assumption considering how powerful Prospero was in the magic arts. Some even believed that he was more powerful than the fairies, including Oberon and Titania themselves. Puck had once told Rosalind that Ariel was really a fairy, but he didn't have an argument anymore when Rosalind pointed out the fact that Ariel didn't have wings or pointed ears.

There she was, floating there, watching, a playful look on her face. Rosalind always felt creeped out for some reason whenever Ariel was present. She resembled a normal and playful teenage girl with dark brown hair and a quirky sense about her; however, it was difficult for Rosalind to get over the fact that Ariel was so . . . was so . . . well, diaphanous, like the thinnest of curtains or gossamer wings.

Prince Malcolm, King Duncan's eldest son, was also there, along with Don Pedro. The two of them were a part of the King's Men and they stood with Horatio, another member of the Sycorax. Horatio was looking very somber as though he had seen a ghost—and Rosalind wasn't thinking about Ariel anymore. Rosalind pondered what was up with Horatio. He was normally very chipper.

With all eyes on her, except for Horatio's, Rosalind approached the Council with as much confidence as she could summon. "Council," she spoke, her voice shaky. "Fellow soldiers. I am sorry to intrude but I bring good news. The Royal Beacons have been lit again!"

To this, Puck nodded, grinning.

Prospero stood up immediately. It took everyone else a moment longer for the words to sink in. Prospero stood tall and regal and it wasn't the first time that Rosalind thought that he should be one of the Golden Kings. Prospero was very wise, even beyond his years, which was saying much because he had already lived a very long time. He had long gray hair and a beard just as long and he looked like the typical wizened old sage. His thin, piercingly bright blue eyes that were like sapphires regarded Rosalind. He looked as if he had known this already.

"I assumed," he spoke softly, yet his voice carried across the room, "that this would happen soon enough, but I did not expect for it to happen in light of a tragedy."

"Tragedy?" Puck was curious. "What tragedy?"

"The king is dead," Horatio announced, proof that he was still among the living because he looked so depressed, so _dead _himself. "King Hamlet is dead! He's been murdered!"

"Now, now, calm down, young Horatio," Oberon joined the conversation. "We don't have any proof at all that King Hamlet was murdered. He died in his sleep of natural causes."

"He was murdered, I tell you!" Horatio cried in anger and Malcolm and Don Pedro struggled to contain him as he shook with rage. "Everyone knows that Claudius has been after his brother's throne for years."

"Horatio, please calm yourself," Prospero said calmly. "If what you say is true, and Claudius has had King Hamlet murdered, then we will find out the truth. But for now, you must remain calm and accept Claudius as your king."

"He will never be my king," Horatio spat.

Rosalind was taken aback. She had never heard someone disrespect Prospero like Horatio just did and . . . the king . . . King Hamlet, one of the Golden Rulers who occupied one of the Three Thrones was dead. She couldn't believe it. It was devastating, although she could never possibly feel the way that Horatio did. After all, Horatio had known King Hamlet well because he was friends with Prince Hamlet.

"Prince Malcolm? Don Pedro? Please escort Horatio out of here so that he can cool off," Oberon instructed them.

As Malcolm and Don Pedro led Horatio, who was openly sobbing now, from the conference room, Titania stood up.

"Prospero, my lord. Oberon, we must act now," she spoke in her voice that always sounded so maternal. Everyone could also hear how strained her voice sounded when she mentioned Oberon's name; Titania still hadn't forgiven her husband for joining the King's Men. "First, the Critics arrive, then, the death of a Golden King, and now, the Royal Beacons."

Prospero's face was blank and unreadable, but his eyes gave away the notion that he was thinking very carefully. He then looked to Desdemona, who had climbed out of her seat moments earlier at around the same time that the other members of the Council had done so.

"Desdemona, I need you to find Othello and bring him back to the palace," Prospero started to dish out instructions. He and Oberon were co-leaders of the King's Men, but ultimately, decisions fell upon him, like with Caliban in the Sycorax. "I know that he is spending time in Africa with his family but I have an important task for him."

Desdemona nodded. "Yes, my liege," she said respectfully. "Would you like for me to leave now?"

"Yes," Prospero said. "Time is of the essence. We must act swiftly."

Desdemona moved at once for the exit, following after Horatio, Malcolm, and Don Pedro. When Prospero spoke again, he was giving out more commands.

"Mercutio? Orlando? Will it be possible for the two of you to track down Caliban? It is time for us to know all that he knows and how he is faring in his mission."

Mercutio shrugged. "It shouldn't be too hard, Lord Prospero. We know the free lands well enough and Caliban should be returning to address us soon anyways. Give us about a week or two and we can send him here to speak with you."

"A week or two?" Titania echoed. "Can we possibly wait that long?"

"We may not have a choice," Prospero told her.

"But we have to find the king—" Titania started to say but Prospero interjected before she could finish.

"I am very aware of the Prophecy of the Sycorax, Milady," Prospero told her. "Which is why I need Caliban here. There is much we have to talk about and we will talk when the moment is right. We don't have to rush this conversation; we have other more pressing matters to attend to. Mercutio and Orlando will have Caliban come to us when he returns."

Titania wanted to argue but she caught Oberon's gaze and her voice faltered.

Since Titania had nothing more to say, Prospero was already looking to his daughter. "Miranda, darling? Contact our friend, Antonio. I need to speak with him. Tell him it is urgent."

"Yes, father," Miranda said in a soft voice and then, she was off.

"What about us, my lord?" Puck wanted to know. Titania glanced at him and rolled her eyes "What do you want me and Rosalind to do?"

Benvolio stepped forward and passed Puck. "Don't forget about me," he said. "I'm here as well."

Prospero was resolute with his next words and there was no point in even trying to argue with him. "Soon, there will come a time when all of the King's Men shall have very important roles in shaping the future. But for now, I would like for you to return home and await further instructions." He looked at Titania, ignoring the looks on the faces of Rosalind, Puck, and Benvolio. "Titania, can you have the Fairy Wings on alert? I need some eyes in the skies just in case."

Titania didn't know what Prospero was getting at with his "just in case", but she assured him that it would be no problem.

Then, Prospero swept from the room, without a single glance back at the company he was leaving behind in the conference room.


	4. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four**

I opened my eyes slowly, unsure if I wanted to know where I was.

Memories flooded my mind then. I remembered the trip into the square with my best friend, Melody after school. I remembered eating dinner and talking to my perfect boyfriend Will about available jobs. I remembered the phone conversation with Alice and my heart sunk. Then, I remembered coming to the Merchant's Library, begging Antonio, the owner of the shop for a job. And lastly, I remembered reading from the glowing manuscript and . . . .

It had seemed too real, this new dream that I had about the world of Shakespeare. Only there had been something different about it.

Never before had I had the dream while awake. True, I had blacked out before the dream came but usually, I was asleep, wrapped up snugly in my bed beneath my blankets.

It had happened so quickly and seemingly out of nowhere. One second, I was reading about Henry IV, and the next, I had fainted.

I had become the Dark Lady once more and I could really feel her joy when all of the Seven Relics had been located, just as I could feel her anger when she had lost them. That was why I was confused and was unsure if I wanted to see where I was. Was I still in the Merchant's Library, sitting on the floor of the second floor of Antonio's private room, with the heavy book of one of the special manuscripts on my lap or was I in the world of Shakespeare, speaking with Caliban about the Prophecy of the Sycorax?

As I opened my eyes, I could feel the weight of the book pressing down upon my legs, so I knew where I was. I was back in the Merchant's Library.

I looked around and found that I was still alone. I closed the book. I wanted to read more but I resisted the urge. How long had I been under? Apparently, it had only been a few minutes but Antonio hadn't returned yet. I had only been out for a few minutes when clearly my dream had lasted for nearly an hour it seemed.

I quickly stood up and I wobbled on two legs before gaining my balance and holding steady. I felt lightheaded, a little dizzy. My body ached. I was stiff. I stretched and returned the book to the bookshelf.

Looking at the door to the room the entire time, I returned to the ladder and climbed down, out of breath before I had even reached the bottom. Something was wrong with me. I felt angry without reason and my body hurt as if I had fell down to the ground hard. My ears were ringing and even being around such wondrous objects couldn't make me feel better.

I noticed something just as I heard the footsteps approaching. I looked closely and I was perplexed. The item was there before I had blacked out and now, it was gone. Was I dreaming again?

Antonio came into the room as I found myself drifting towards the place where the ring used to be.

"Sorry, it took me so long," Antonio was saying, apologizing to me, which would have shocked me if I hadn't been shocked by something else already. I spun around and tried to look as innocent as possible. Antonio's eyes narrowed. "What are you doing?"

I shielded the spot behind me as well as I could. "N-n-nothing," I stammered, placing a hand on my chest. I started to breath hard from nerves but I played it off as being scared. "I was just looking at all of fascinating things you have back here. You startled me."

Antonio stared at me for a moment and I could feel his eyes burning though me, peering into my soul to find out if I was lying or not. His eyes flickered upstairs and I knew that he was looking up to make sure that his precious manuscripts were left undisturbed. My eyes followed his and my mouth dropped. The manuscripts weren't glowing anymore. Matter of fact, they weren't indistinguishable from the other books that lined the bookshelf.

I closed my mouth when Antonio looked back at me, trying my best to stand there and look nonchalant.

"You didn't touch anything?" Antonio demanded. I really wished he went back to acting the way he did when he apologized to me because the current look on his face was downright scary. I wanted to cower in a corner and shake to death from fright. Did this guy ever smile? And why on earth was he so stern? I would have to ask Will about his friend later.

I shook my head. "No, I didn't touch anything. I was just looking around; that's all."

Antonio didn't seem to believe me but he accepted it for now. He finished giving me a tour of the Merchant's Library. First, he showed me the rest of the room of goodies. He didn't take me up to the second level but he pointed out a door up there that I didn't notice while I was up there earlier—the glowing manuscripts had captivated me so that I couldn't see anything but them. He told me that the door led to a third level where his apartment was. He said that the door was always locked but at any rate, I wasn't allowed in his apartment ever.

We left the room. I took one last look back. Of course, the ring was gone and the manuscripts were not glowing. Again I had to ask myself if I was dreaming—or maybe the more appropriate question to ask was had I been dreaming earlier?

I knew I had dreamt about the Dark Lady and the Seven Relics because that was only a part of my imagination and wasn't real. But had I been imagining the glowing books about Shakespearean plays? Had they really been illuminated by a golden light, or was my imagination so active nowadays that I was always pretending like a little kid with an imaginary friend?

It had all been real, I was sure of it. I knew that I wasn't going crazy. The books had glowed and had invited me to come and read them. And what about the ring?

The ring—Leah's ring—had been present in that room. I hadn't imagined it either. I had seen it, its silvery surface and the slots that were missing gems. It had been there and now, it was gone. How long would it take for Antonio to realize that one of his artifacts had been stolen? And . . . _stolen_? Who could have taken it? I was the only one in the room at the time, so I was the only suspect. Antonio would blame me for sure and I didn't have an alibi except that I blacked out but I didn't think that excuse would hold up in Antonio's court.

I checked my pockets just to make sure that I hadn't sleepwalked and somehow took the ring. My pockets were empty so that meant that someone else had been in that room with me. Someone else had taken the ring and was trying to set me up to be the culprit. Was it a customer who had stolen it? Antonio himself? Surely not Antonio. Why would he hire me and then set me up as a thief. It didn't make sense. None of it made sense—the glowing manuscripts and the ring. Nothing made sense at all. I didn't think that I wanted to work here anymore.

I would have to tell Antonio. It was the noble thing to do. But I didn't want him to blame me for the heist. I was not going to be the scapegoat. I had to convince him somehow that someone else had come into the room while I was there. Someone else had swiped it. He would have to believe me. The manuscripts could help. Telling him about reading the manuscript would force him to believe me. Maybe he knew that reading from those strange and magical books caused people to faint.

Antonio led me back to the main part of the store. He fished around behind the counter for a contract for me to sign and then we were going to discuss the days and hours that I could work. The store was empty. The sky was dark outside now and the shop was going to close soon. It was now or never. I took a deep breath and exhaled loudly.

Antonio looked up. "Did you say something?" he asked curiously.

I shook my head and he looked down, searching for the contract.

"Antonio?" I called timidly, my throat dry. Over and over again inside my head I told myself that this was the right thing to do, even if I got into trouble over it. My mind flickered to Alice and what she would think when I was taken to jail for a petty crime; to Will's; to Melody's. I forced the thoughts away, pushing them back with mental might I never knew I possessed.

Antonio looked up again and he emerged from behind the counter, clutching a thick slip of parchment paper and a feathered quill.

"Antonio?" I called without being aware that I had made myself speak again.

He walked towards me with the contract he had finally found. He seemed not to have heard me because he didn't acknowledge me. Either that or he was ignoring me, which was definitely curbing my will to tell him about the missing ring.

"Here you are," Antonio said, handing me the parchment. I looked down at it instinctively, thoughts tugging at my brain and playing a very bizarre game of tug-of-war. I tried to make myself ignore the contract and speak to Antonio. The contract would become null and void anyway whenever I decided to speak up again. "I just need you to read over this and then sign it if you agree to the terms."

The words on the page were blurry even though I was wearing my contacts. I couldn't focus on them. I had to talk to Antonio. Why did I have a conscious? Why couldn't I be a soulless, heartless woman like the Dark Lady?

Antonio walked off and started tidying up the sales floor, beginning his pre-closing stuff. I watched him face a section of books and a lump rose in my throat that was hard to swallow.

It was a difficult situation for me to be in. I wanted and _needed _the job that he had just given me but I also needed, not wanted, to tell him about the ring and how I had lied about touching the items of his backroom.

"Antonio?" I called again. My voice tried to falter but I held strong.

He looked over at me, inquiringly. I assumed he thought that I needed assistance with the contract but I didn't. But there was still the lingering voice that told me that Antonio must think that I was stupid.

"Yes?" he called, sounding only half-interested, wanting more than anything for me to just sign the contract so that I could be out of his hair for a while so that he could straighten up his precious store in peace. Or maybe I assumed too much. I really needed to stop that. It could be my downfall one day, my tragic flaw, if I was the hero of an epic tale that is.

"I . . . I have something to tell you."

If he hadn't been interested before, he was definitely interested now. He stopped facing and _faced _me. I gulped. I didn't like how quickly his face could turn to stone. I wondered if Antonio was one of those parents who were always glowering at their kids, you know those fussy, stern parents. And that was assuming he had kids. _Stop it, Anne, _I chided myself. _Stop assuming already . . . ._

I couldn't help I though. I was terrified of Antonio's wrath and I didn't even know the guy like that. I just assumed that he would get very angry and go all Hulk on me.

See, there I go again with the assumptions.

"What?" was all that escaped from the thin line of Antonio's pursed lips. He hadn't said it with curt but it was very well implied.

His eyes were upon me. They were staring with intensity, waiting.

I rambled through what I had to say without pausing to even take a breath, not caring if he comprehended what I said. I had just wanted to get it all out before I succumbed to nerves and fear:

"When I was in the backroom, I was looking at all of your treasures and I saw the replica of Leah's ring from Shakespeare's play, _The Merchant of Venice_. I didn't touch it, I swear. I left it right where it was. But then, I saw the glowing manuscripts upstairs and I couldn't help myself. I climbed up the ladder and I read a little bit of _Henry IV_. I'm sorry. And now, your ring is gone but I swear that I had nothing to do with it. Honestly, I was reading from the book and then, I fainted. The ring was gone when I came to."

Antonio's eyes flashed dangerously. He kept his temper in check for just a moment before he erupted like a volcano.

"WHAT?!" He cried. Then, he voice gave out and became a squeak. "The ring . . . You . . . The manuscripts . . . I can't believe . . . . I told you not to . . . ."

He couldn't make a complete sentence. I watched in horror, waiting for him to rush at me and strike me or something. But he didn't. Antonio spun away from me, muttering under his breath incoherently. I hadn't banked on him acting like this. I expected yelling and immediate termination but Antonio fled from the room.

Well, he didn't flee the room because there was nothing to flee from, but he did leave the sales floor. He was going to that backroom, going to ensure that I was right about the ring; about it being stolen that is. Maybe somehow he could tell that I had read from one of the Shakespeare manuscripts. After all, they weren't glowing any more.

I dropped the contract and I followed him. I don't know why but I did, my legs moving slowly but in sync with each other so that I did not topple over. I was a puppet, a marionette even, and Antonio's retreat into his storage room was the puppeteer who had mastered controlling the strings.

I could hear movement before I had even reached the open door. I could also hear banging, scrapes, and muttered curses. Antonio was moving stuff around, searching for the lost ring. He was panicked, freaking out, his movements a swift patter of his shoes against the floor as he moved about the room, swearing under his breath. I came to a halt in the doorframe, not daring to take a step farther as I cut the invisible strings that had previous bound me and regained control of my body. I was no longer a puppet.

Antonio was in an uproar, muttering to himself in disbelief. He looked behind his statues and Paleolithic pottery, underneath display tables and an antique chair that stood in the farthest corner from the door.

He happened to pause briefly and look over to find me standing in the doorway. He made a noise that resembled a growl and continued his search. I attempted to speak, to tell him more but I forgot how to speak. It was like I had no tongue, no mouth, and no lips.

Antonio stopped looking at me without warning. He was thinking. Then, his eyes flashed my way again for just a split-second and then up at a particular section of books. I knew right away what he was looking at—the section where the Shakespearean manuscripts rested. I gulped and I attempted to talk again.

"Antonio," I managed to choke out. "I don't know what is going on but—"

"SILENCE!" Antonio yelled in outrage and the entire room seemed to shudder in wake of his bellow. I took two fleeting steps backwards and continued to watch him as he stood there, looking up. I wanted to cry or at least run away, but my eyes forgot how to cry as well and I was frozen there, a puppet once more. I had to wait to see how this played out. I had to wait for Antonio to cast judgment.

He stalked over to the ladder then. It was in a perfect position for him to climb up to reach the manuscripts, exactly where I had left it earlier. I wanted to slap myself in the forehead and yell out "Duh!" I mean, how could I have been so stupid? Of course, Antonio would have eventually noticed that his ladder had been moved, which would have eventually led him to see that the manuscripts weren't glowing anymore and then perhaps to the conclusion that I had read from one of them. But that didn't matter anymore. He knew everything now. I had confessed . . . Well, not really confessed, because that was a horrible word for the current situation. I had told him that I had read from one of the manuscripts and that the ring was gone but I hadn't confessed to anything because I was innocent. Innocent until proven guilty. How would such a law that most of the world lived upon play out today in Antonio's court? How swift would his justice be for a crime that I didn't commit? I had to keep reminding myself that I hadn't stolen the ring not because I was trying to convince myself that it was true but rather because I wanted myself to believe that there was no possible way that Antonio could accuse me of thieving. I did not have the ring on me at all so how could I have taken it? Maybe he would think that I had hidden it but I didn't think that he would. For my sake, I hoped that he was smarter than that.

I watched silently as Antonio climbed the ladder faster than I would have expected him to be able to in normal circumstances. But this was by no means a circumstance that I would have liked to call normal. This was far from it. One of Antonio's prized possessions had mysteriously disappeared and he was trying to get to the bottom of something. If only I knew what. Surely, he didn't expect to find the ring inside one of the Shakespeare books. That idea was ludicrous, preposterous even, or any other synonym for wildly crazy one could think of with or without the use of a thesaurus.

Antonio stepped up onto the second floor and walked straight over to the formerly glowing tomes without delay. He pulled one from the shelf and I knew it was the _Henry IV_ one that he had grabbed. After all, that was the one that I had read from and I had told him that when I had also told him that the ring was gone.

He flipped through the book and I listened as silently as I could, my breathing coming hard and fast. Over the sound of my breathing I could hear the pages flipping and I could hear other noises as well. Voices and other sounds coming from upstairs. Was I hearing things? This wasn't the first time that I had imagined something that wasn't there, something that wasn't tangible, and I was sure that this wouldn't be the last time.

Antonio closed the book shut with an echoing snap and I jumped reflexively. The voices and sounds that I had heard—or thought I heard—disappeared, which advanced my beliefs that I had been hearing things that weren't real. He returned the book to the shelf and climbed back down the ladder. Then, he glared at me and I knew that I was in trouble.

I opened my mouth to speak, ready to defend myself when the accusations started spewing from his mouth but Antonio didn't accuse me of anything. Instead he said—

"I don't really know what happened here," he began quietly, trying to keep his voice calm and steady while staring down at the hardwood floor. He didn't want to look at me because he feared that he would lose his cool again. "And I can't understand what happened right now either. What I do know is that my ring is gone and that you read from one of the manuscripts after I specifically told you not to touch anything. I must find out what is going to happen now and I need to do so alone." He then looked up at me suddenly and I cringed, waiting for him to unleash his wrath. "I need for you to leave and get out of here right now."

"I could help you find the ring," I offered and I didn't know why. Clearly, Antonio wanted me to vacate the premises, yet I wanted to remain to try and help him recover an item that I had no clue about its whereabouts.

Antonio shook his head and shook with rage that he did a remarkable job of suppressing. "No," he said flatly. "I want you to leave now."

I hesitated. I wanted to ask him if I still had a job here. Asking such a question was tempting and I probably would have asked it like a dummy if Antonio hadn't yelled at me a third time.

"NOW!"

I turned on my heels and raced from the shop without looking back, the tears able to fall now.

I stepped outside into the cool, crisp night air. The sky was completely dark but the square was not. The streetlamps had been lit and colorful lights danced around all of the little shops and eateries, coming from outside and within. I broke into a brisk pace, sobbing openly as I headed back to Will's job to meet up with him and Melody.

I wiped my face with the back of my hand and I couldn't figure out why I was crying. I had nothing to cry about. In fact, I should have been relieved that Antonio had let me leave without blaming me for stealing the replica of Leah's ring and calling the cops to have me arrested. I assumed, something that you know that I liked to do often by now, that I was crying because of the intensity of the predicament that I had found myself in. It also didn't help that Antonio had yelled at me too. Those few things had fueled my desires to sob.

I knew that I needed to stop crying soon because I did not want Will and Melody to see me in such a state. I didn't want them to comfort me, especially Will, who would figure out some way to blame himself for my troubles. And then, what was I going to tell the two of them when I saw them? Would I lie to them and say that I got the job at the Merchant's Library? Or would that even be a lie? I had indeed received the job but now I was uncertain if Antonio would allow me to retain my new position after today's debacle.

I would tell them the truth. I didn't want to lie to my friends. Besides, lying would be very difficult in my current state. I was so riled up with negative emotions that they wouldn't believe me anyway if I told them that all was well.

Passing the seafood restaurant made me think about Alice again, which in turn caused me to cry harder. I sat down for a while, reflecting on the phone conversation with Alice while I tried to regain my composure.

I stopped crying and continued to dab away at the drying tears. My eyes were bloodshot, I was sure, but the redness would go away soon enough. Maybe if I sat there long enough, my eyes wouldn't be red when I returned to Will's workplace. I didn't have all night to just sit there and think and I needed to meet up with Melody soon anyways so we could catch a bus home. I wanted desperately to go home, to go to sleep, and wake up the next morning from this nightmare, hoping that everything would be better tomorrow. Tomorrow . . . .

I quickly realized that I didn't really want to think about tomorrow a whole lot. Tomorrow I would have no job just like before and I would have to relive today over and over again as my memories replayed the images before my mind's eye like I was watching a rerun of a television show—my least favorite television show to be a little more precise. And what if the police suddenly showed up at my door? How would I be able to explain it to Alice, explain that I was innocent? She would be devastated if I was hauled off to jail. After what happened with our parents . . . I don't think she could handle losing me too . . . .

I forced those disturbing images out of my mind and tried to relax. My head was spinning so fast that if I stood up at the moment, I would probably fall over.

People past me and I watched them walk by without truly seeing them. All I could see, all I could think about was the glowing manuscript, the missing ring, and the dream about the Dark Lady.

For some strange, unexplainable reason, my mind was suddenly more concerned about the dream than anything else at the moment.

The Dark Lady was continuing her quest for world domination and she had at long last managed to acquire all of the Seven Relics since the last time I had a dream about her. Hotspur had brought her a skull while Caliban had given her a . . . .

I gasped as I recalled the dream. Caliban had given the Dark Lady a ring! The last Relic was a ring, a ring that was much like the pilfered ring from Antonio's shop. What a strange coincidence. I fell asleep and had a dream about a ring and then I woke up to find that Antonio's ring had been taken. Was I going insane?

I knew that the dream had nothing to do with the disappearance of Antonio's ring but I couldn't help but to see the weird connection that the two separate events had. I didn't really see what the ring had looked like in the dream—dreams were just weird like that with their odd camera angles and such—but there was no way that it resembled the missing ring in anyway possible. They were two separate rings and just part of a coincidence and . . . why was I even trying to compare the dream with reality anyways?

I stood up and realized that I had been sitting there for nearly twenty minutes. My tears had long since faded now. I checked my reflection as much as I could in my glass watch face and from what I could see, my eyes were no longer red. I was ready to face Will and Melody but was I ready to tell them the truth?

I returned to the courier building faster than I had wanted to. I couldn't stall anymore. I had to go on in and face my boyfriend and my best friend and tell them what happened, but only if they asked me, which they surely would since they were both waiting to hear if I had found a job or not. After trying to summon as much courage as I could—and feeling exactly like the cowardly lion did at the beginning of _The Wizard of Oz_—I entered the building.

Will was exactly where I had left him and if I hadn't known better, I would have wagered that he had never left the spot at all. But of course, I knew better. I had been gone for nearly an hour and he _was _at work. He had probably moved from that very spot at least two dozen times over the course of the last sixty minutes; nonetheless, it was very strange to find him standing in the exact place where he had been standing when I had departed. If was almost as if he had been waiting for my return for the past few minutes, anxious to hear the good and even the bad news. Sadly, all I would have for him was bad news.

Will's eyes lit up when he saw me and my mind started concocting lies to tell him almost automatically. He was so adorable, especially when he regarded me like he was regarding me now. His face looked like a small child's on Christmas morning.

"Hey, sweetheart," he greeted, coming over to me at once. "How did it go?"

"Unexpected," I replied, allowing him to sweep me up into a hug. At least, I hadn't told a lie yet.

He kissed my forehead gently and chuckled. "Unexpected?" he repeated. "How so?"

But I was looking around the room. I had noticed something. "Melody hadn't returned yet?" I changed the subject. I needed more time to gather myself before I told him what had transpired at the Merchant's Library. Plus, I wanted Melody to be there too when I said it. Maybe it would be easier. Maybe it would be harder. Who knew? I just wanted them both present so I didn't have to repeat myself. I hated telling some stories twice and this was one of them.

Will shook his head. "No, not yet," he told me. "I expect that she should be returning soon though."

"She should be," I said.

Will stared at me. I looked at him and then quickly looked away. That was it. I had given it away. Will would know that something was wrong now. I might as well go ahead and spill the beans.

"Did you get the job?" Will questioned me. "You don't seem too excited if you did."

"It's a long story," I told him, continuing to barely skirt around the edge of the truth. "And I kind of want to wait until Melody gets back to tell it."

Will understood completely and didn't press me farther. He was so kind and unselfish. He would give me the world if I asked him too or maybe a kingdom or something of that nature.

"Okay, we'll wait to Melody returns," Will agreed.

He walked behind the counter across the room and started stacking up a pile of heavy boxes. I remained where I was, just as nervous now as I was when I had first met him.

"So, how's work?" I asked, sparking a time-filling conversation, although work was the last thing that I wanted to think about.

"Tonight was pretty boring actually," Will told me, straining to lift up one of the heavier boxes. I wanted to assist him but I hesitated and in that split second, he had already gotten the box up off the ground. "We didn't have too many deliveries. I've been mostly standing around waiting to see you again."

He flashed the smile that I loved and I wanted to hug him again.

Blushing slightly, I looked around the room trying to come up with another question to ask him as a topic starter. I couldn't think of any but it didn't really matter anyway because at that moment, the door opened behind me and Melody strode in to save the day. She was looking very smug with a gi-normous grin on her face. She didn't even have to tell us that she got the job at The Boutique because we could get the picture by her facial expression alone. And I couldn't help but to feel slightly jealous.

"I did it!" Melody cried at once. "She liked the dress that I made and would like to see some more of my designs. I can't believe it! I'm going to be a fashion designer for the Boutique."

Will smiled at her. "Congratulations, Melody."

I tried to smile but it appeared on my face rather lopsidedly. "Yeah, good job, Mel," I said sincerely, although the jealousy continued to hover around me. "I'm so proud of you."

"Thank you!" Melody cried and she looked like she was on the verge of crying tears of joy, quite the opposite from the way that I had been feeling for the past half an hour. She embraced me tightly and cried some more. "I can't wait to tell Alice. Maybe she could join us too!"

I nearly started balling again at the mention of Alice's name. I was so saddened by the fact that she had lost one of her jobs and that I had failed to obtain a job for myself. I had had it and then I had lost it just as quickly. Why hadn't I listened to Antonio when he had plainly told me not to touch anything? If I hadn't touched anything, then I wouldn't have been in the predicament that I was in.

But Melody was right, I realized after the hug was over. It would be a good idea for Alice to sell her clothes at the Boutique as well. I had been telling her for years to do so and maybe with the help of Melody, I could convince her to do it now that we actually need the money that she could make. It would be an easier replacement job for her. She would be able to work mostly from home and would have more free time to catch up on her homework and go out and have fun or even date for that matter. I really thought that it was a good idea but then again, I wasn't Alice who was so attached to the products that she created that she would hate to see them being sold in a store. But desperate times sometimes called for desperate measures.

And that went for me too and not just for Alice. I was desperate for a job and now, I would do nearly anything to get one. Perhaps I would return to the square tomorrow and talk to the manager at the seafood restaurant. Even if I didn't like the job—and was utterly terrified to get a job at a restaurant after what happened to Alice—I could at least grin and bear it and stick it out until I managed to find something better. The plan that I had was simple enough and relied on whether or not I would be facing jail time for a crime that I didn't commit.

"So, how did it go for you, Anne?" Melody asked suddenly. "Did you get the job?"

I hadn't expected her to ask me that question so soon. I had expected her to talk more about the Boutique and tell us more about her interview, but she didn't. It was time for me to tell them what happened. I couldn't stall any longer.

Hearing what Melody had asked me, Will approached us, coming closer to hear better.

"I did get the job," I said quietly and I was surprised that the two of them could hear me. As a smile started to form on Will's face—more than likely my favorite smile—and as Melody opened her mouth, I quickly added, "But I didn't get the job."

Melody looked confused. Will stared at me, flustered and waiting for me to explain such a paradox.

"What do you mean?" he asked me when I didn't explain immediately. "Do I need to go and speak with Antonio?"

I shook my head. "No, you don't," I told him, glad that he was trying to stand up for me, even against an old friend of his family. "I'll explain everything."

Will and Melody waited in silence. I thought long and hard about what I wanted to tell them, about which details I wanted to leave out of the recap. Then, when I was sure that I was ready—only about 70 percent sure—I proceeded carefully.

"I had to convince Antonio to give me a job since I hadn't had any work experience before," I began slowly. "After a bit of . . . persuasion, he gave me a job and I was well on my way to becoming his assistant."

"Then, what happened?" Melody asked impatiently.

"He gave me a brief tour of his store," I answered her question surprisingly quick. I had to stop doing that though. Acting upon impulse was not a good idea. I had to be careful about what I told Will and Melody, especially with what I was about to tell them. I didn't want them to think that I belonged in a mental institute. What had happened at the Merchant's Library was nearly enough for myself to believe that I needed to be locked away in a padded cell. "Then, he left me in the backroom, his secret room, as he returned up front to tend to some customers. He told me that he would be right back and he ordered me not to touch anything."

While I spoke those last two sentences, I could see Will's eyes grow larger and larger with each and every word as he was immersed deeply into my recount. He was enjoying my tale so far and I didn't know why.

"You got to go into Antonio's chamber—the room where he keeps all of his artifacts?" Will demanded. "What was it like?" He added curiously.

I gaped. This was so uncharacteristic of Will that it would have been funny if I were someone else. I had never seen him act this way before. His was forever curious of course, but he never took pleasure in anything that had me upset. Clearly he could see I was upset. He had been concerned before and I knew that he had known since I had first returned that things hadn't gone well at the Merchant's Library. But now, he was no longer concerned but excited. I realized then what had him so stimulated.

The stupid manuscripts. The ones that William Shakespeare had apparently penned himself. Will was infatuated with them. If ever he had an obsession, it was those manuscripts. He had once told me that when he was a kid, he used to beg Antonio for the opportunity to read them but Antonio had never obliged. Ever since his arrival in town last year, Will has wanted to somehow devise a way to sneak into Antonio's private stores and read from the manuscripts. I had told him that we would never be able to and I felt like such a hypocrite. After all, I was able to read from one of them, however briefly, and it hadn't taken any skills at being cunning.

"It was pretty cool, I guess," was my response. I still hadn't recovered from the shock of Will's sudden change in behavior and personality. "He had all kinds of neat stuff. It was like a museum."

"Did you see the manuscripts?" Will questioned me. "Were they glowing?"

I gaped again. How did Will know that the manuscripts shone—or had shone rather—with a golden light? I hadn't mentioned that yet, nor was I planning on mentioning it because I didn't want him or Melody to think that I was off my rocker.

But then again, Will and Antonio were friends; I kept forgetting that. Of course, he would know that the manuscripts glowed. He had probably even caught several glimpses of them throughout his life. If Will knew such bizarre information, then maybe he wouldn't think I was crazy. But there was still Melody who would.

Melody scoffed before I could answer Will's questions. "Glowing manuscripts, Will? Please tell me that you don't believe in that."

Will looked offended when he regarded Melody. "I've seen them," he informed her. "So yeah, I do believe in that."

Melody rolled her eyes and I thought that it was best for me to rejoin the conversation before an argument broke out between a skeptical Melody and a suddenly crazed Will, who now reminded me of that squirrel who was hopped up on coke in that one animated movie about hedges. You should have seen the way that he was staring at me, waiting for me to continue and answer his questions.

"Yes, I saw the manuscripts," I confirmed and I thought that Will was going to jump out of his pants; he was so excited. "And yes, they were glowing."

Will was ecstatic and Melody rolled her eyes again. "No, no," she said. "Please, Anne, don't encourage this. Those books were not glowing. It's absurd. It's impossible."

"That what I thought too," I said. "Well, at least, I used to think it was impossible, but I can't deny it anymore now that I've seen them with my own eyes. They were really glowing, Melody. I swear."

"Of course, they were glowing," she said sarcastically. "Books glow all the time."

"Did you read one of them?" Will ignored Melody's remark to question me.

I hesitated. I didn't want to tell him that I did. I didn't want to see his reaction. He would probably jump out of the roof if I told him that I did. But I did tell myself that I would tell him and Melody the truth and well, he had asked me if I had read from one of the books, so I would have to remain true to my word and tell him the truth.

I nodded. "Yes, I did."

Will was beside himself with glee now. What he had wanted for a long time now had finally come to past. Until now, I had never noticed that he had always wanted me to read from one of the manuscripts and not himself. Sure, he had wanted to be present when I did so but it had always been me. I just never noticed the way that he had phrased such a proposal, and now, he had finally gotten what he had wanted all along.

"What happened next?" Will asked.

"Nothing really," I replied truthfully, much to Will's dismay. His face fell then slightly. "I blacked out and I had a dream and when I woke up, one of Antonio's artifacts was missing."

Will's face changed completely then. Concern creased his face again. It was like he was bi-polar or something. One second he was excited, the next he was stunned, and then the next he was troubled. He was troubled and I didn't understand why. What was going on with him?

"One of the artifacts is missing?" he asked in a shocked voice. "Which one?"

"Uh, uh, a ring," I told him. "It was a replica of Leah's ring from _The Merchant of Venice_."

Will looked sick all of a sudden. "That's bad," he said before repeating those two words several more times.

I looked at him. "What's bad?"

Will seemed to regain some composure when he responded. "The ring being stolen," he said. "Antonio was probably furious."

"You bet he was," I said, recalling Antonio's reaction when I had told him that his beloved ring was gone. It had not been a happy moment and was one I never wanted to relive. But I knew that I would be reliving it for many days now. Memories were sometimes painful like that.

"Who took it?" Will demanded, a crazed gleam in his eyes. What was up with him? This wasn't the Will that I knew and loved and it was scaring me. I almost started crying again. I was so afraid that he might do something rash and dangerous without warning and I had never felt that way in his presence before. He seemed more concerned about the missing ring than Antonio did and that troubled me. Why? Was there something that Will was not telling me? I would have to ask him when I managed to calm him down. "Did you see who took it?" Will repeated.

I shook my head. "No," I told him truthfully. "I told you I blacked out for a while and when I came to it was gone."

Will was thinking hard. He started pacing. "Someone must have entered the room and stolen it while you were unconscious," he surmised.

"But who?" Melody spoke up for the first time in a long time and I jumped. I had nearly forgotten that she was there with us as well. "Who could have possibly entered Antonio's shop, snuck past him and some customers to the backroom and steal a ring while Anne was there asleep. It sounds insane. It doesn't make sense at all. It is almost as preposterous as those glowing manuscripts." She scoffed, something she was doing quite often during the course of this conversation. As far as skeptics went, Melody was the worse skeptic of them all. But I didn't care about her skepticism right now. I was bothered more by Will's atypical behavior.

"Does Antonio have an idea who might have done this?" Will inquired, ignoring Melody's remarks altogether.

I shook my head.

"I need to talk to him," Will said simply.

"Why?" I demanded, my voice suddenly shrill.

Will rounded on me. For a second, he had that crazed glint in his eyes but then it was gone. He appeared to be _my _Will again. "That ring is very important to Antonio," was all he said.

"Why is it important?" I hit him with another question. He was not going to escape from me easily, even if his expression was relaxed and calm again.

"I cannot tell you, but you will know soon enough," Will skirted around the edges of answering my question.

The tears came then. I could feel them and there was nothing that I could do about them. I was angry, scared, and sad all at the same time. Will was withholding information, perhaps valuable information, from me and I didn't like it one bit. Why was he doing this? In an instant, he had changed and I wanted the old Will back. The old Will would have told me. He would have told me everything. The old Will never lied to me, nor kept secrets. The new Will did.

"Why can't you tell me?" I cried, asking my third "why" question in a row. "Will? What is going on?"

He didn't respond. He turned away from me and stared at the front door. From the way that he was standing, with his head hung low and his shoulders slumped, he looked pained. I was torn between comforting him and yelling at him some more. For the first time in our relationship, I chose to do the latter.

"I said, what's going on?!" I screamed and I was surprised that Will's co-workers or his manager didn't come out from the back rooms to find out what was going on and what was causing such a commotion. But I didn't care about them. All I cared about was making Will feel bad because he didn't seem to care to hear the rest of my story, about the part where Antonio told me to leave his store and me wondering whether or not I still had a job and could ever show my face again at the Merchant's Library. Nor did he seem to care to find out that I may face criminal charges if Antonio believed that I was the culprit in the heist. All Will cared about was finding out who had stolen the precious ring. It was a stupid replica of a fictional ring for crying out loud, even if it was the replica of an artifact from Shakespearean lore.

Melody stepped cautiously towards me when Will didn't respond and I stood there shaking with fury. "Anne, calm down," she said quietly.

I calmed a hair and tried to lower my voice when I spoke again. Overwhelmed with emotions—this had been a really, really, really, really, _really _horrible day—I spoke in sobs. "Will . . . please . . . ." I begged him, my mouth trembling.

He turned back around to face me, his face grim and resolute. "Anne? I want you and Melody to head on home. I'll see you tomorrow at school, okay? I am going to go and talk to my boss and see if I can take my break now and run down to the Merchant's Library to talk to Antonio. I'll call you when I get off if you want me to."

"I don't want to go home," I said defiantly, while trying to process what he had just told me. It was too much for my brain to handle right now.

"Anne, please," it was his turn to beg. "Trust me on this one, okay?"

That was it. He had said the wrong words.

I narrowed my eyes at Will. "Trust you? How can I when you won't tell me anything?" I shook my head. "No, not this time, Will. Until you tell me what's going on, I am not going to trust you. I am not leaving until you tell me." I then folded my arms across my chest and summoned the meanest look I could produce with tears rolling down my cheeks.

Will approached me and my anger ebbed away when he touched me. Now was the only time ever that I hated that he had that kind of effect on me.

Will hugged me close. "My darling," he whispered into my ear so that only I could hear him. Nearby, Melody stared at us, straining to hear what Will was telling me; however, his words were for my ears only. "I will tell you everything, I promise. But now is not the time. Please do as I say and tomorrow we will talk after school and I will tell you everything, okay?"

I hesitated. A part of me still wanted to insist that he tell me right now, but another part of me wanted to do as he said. Although Will had acted strangely tonight, he still had never led me astray. If now wasn't the time for me to know what he was keeping from me, then now was not the time. Tomorrow would be fine. At least that was what I wanted to believe.

I nodded then and Will pulled away from me, holding me out at arm's length. He smiled. It was a genuine smile, although it wasn't exactly my smile because it was too strained. He kissed my forehead and my knees became weak.

"I'll go home," I told him after the gentle forehead kiss. "But first, before I go, I just want you to know something."

"And what is that?" Will asked me curiously.

"I may not have a job working with Antonio anymore," I admitted.

A jolt rippled through Will's body and I felt it. "Antonio doesn't suspect you, does he?"

"No, I don't think so," I told him. "He just told me to leave and after what happened with the ring and all, I don't think that I have a job anymore." I sighed. "This has to be a record or something." I sniffled and wiped my face. "I was hired and fired in less than an hour."

"You may not have lost your job," Will attempted to assure me but it wasn't working. "I'll talk to Antonio about that as well. Once he gets to the bottom of everything, I'm positive that he will be willing to have you come back and work for him."

I nodded to give Will some satisfaction, although I believed quite the opposite.

Will kissed my forehead again. "Now, go home. Everything will be fine tomorrow."

I nodded again and stood up on my tiptoes. Will took the cue and leaned forward to kiss me just as gently on the lips. "I love you," he whispered when the kiss and my ten seconds in Heaven was over.

I didn't falter in my decision to say those words back to him. After all, I did, even when he was acting so different.

"I love you too."

We kissed again.

"Eww, PDA!" Melody cried in disgust. "Too much PDA!"

Will and I pulled apart and he smiled awkwardly. I didn't smile back because my lips didn't want to.

"Call you later," Will promised me as he handed Melody and me our belongings.

"Okay," I said. I would be waiting for that phone call. I would talk to Will and try to convince him again, without Melody around, to tell me at least a little bit of what he was planning to tell me tomorrow. I was impatient and I didn't want to wait nearly twenty-four hours. It reminded me of how I felt a year ago when I was waiting to hear Will proclaim his crush on me, although that was something that I hadn't been expecting at all. And what he would tell me tomorrow was definitely something that I would have never, in a million years, expected.

Melody and I said farewell to Will and we left. I fought hard against the urges to give Will some time to speak with his boss about a lunch break and then follow him back to the Merchant's Library to eavesdrop on his conversation with Antonio. I eventually won the fight because it was difficult to do that when I was now sitting on a bus with Melody on my way home.

Melody was pretty good company. She didn't ask me how I felt, which I was grateful for. She did not bring up what happened at the Merchant's Library, nor did she bring up our conversation at Will's job. She talked about the Boutique and I was finally able to hear some details about her interview. Sure, my jealousy was still there hovering like a dark cloud, but listening to Melody describe the place that she would be working at took my mind off of rings, manuscripts, Antonio, and Will. I was astounded that I wasn't even thinking about Alice's misfortune today, and I wasn't reminded of it at all until the bus pulled to a stop about a block away from the apartments that Alice and I resided in. Melody's apartments were across the street from mine, of course.

We climbed down out of the bus, the only two getting off at this particular bus stop. The doors to the bus slid closed behind us and the bus pulled away from the curb, rejoining the light traffic. I thought about Alice as I gazed up at my apartment building. She was up there somewhere on one of the upper floors, awaiting my arrival. She would be waiting to hear how my first job hunt went and she would be disappointed to find out that I was unsure whether or not I had a job or not. Unlike Melody or Will, I had to lie to Alice for her sake. I hated to do that but she was already devastated by losing one of her jobs and I didn't want to devastate her anymore; she didn't deserve that. I would just tell her that Antonio would be getting back with me soon after interviewing some more candidates who had more work experience. Yeah, I would tell her that. That lie sounded good.

Melody and I walked up the sidewalk mostly in silence. Melody made a few comments here and there about how she didn't want to go to school tomorrow and would rather sit around at home all day and make clothes to display in the Boutique, but I barely listened to her. She could no longer hold my interest tonight and separate me from my problems. Alice was on my mind now and soon I would be lying to my sister just to protect her. Did that make me a bad person?

Was Will a bad person, a bad boyfriend, for not telling me everything about why he cared so much about Antonio and the stolen ring? I reminded myself yet again that Will and Antonio were old friends and that maybe he wanted to talk to Antonio first before telling me anything.

All sorts of thoughts beleaguered my mind and would have liked more than anything just to lie down and go to sleep. And whether I woke up in the morning or years later like Rip Van Winkle, I just hoped that all of my problems would disappear.

I said bye to Melody outside of her apartment building. She hugged me and said, "Don't worry about a thing, Anne. You'll find a job and you'll be okay."

"Thanks, Mel," I said.

I crossed the street and Melody watched me make it safely to the front entrance before she disappeared inside. I walked in slowly, past the office of the landlord and up the flight of stairs at the back of the hallway. I walked up to the sixth floor and fumbled in my pockets for the key. I found it, entered the apartment and stepped into the living room quietly.

Alice was sitting on the sofa, the television on. Just as I had expected, she was waiting up for me.

"Hey, Alice," I called, closing the apartment door behind me. I tossed my backpack into the hallway that led to my bedroom.

Alice didn't respond. I looked at her and noticed that her head was slumped. I walked around the sofa and found Alice fast asleep, her snoring low and steady. There were black streaks running the length of her face and there were also black splotches on her shirt, which meant that her mascara had run. Alice had cried herself to sleep. Poor thing.

Well, so much for talking to her tonight.

I eased Alice into a lying position on the couch. Her snoring faltered once and her eyes fluttered but they didn't open. She was completely asleep again the moment her head was resting against a sofa cushion. I went into her room and found a blanket in her linen closet and I covered her up with it so that she wouldn't freeze in the middle of the night. Then, I scooped up my backpack and went into my own room.

The first thing I did was set my alarm clock early enough so that I could get up and ensure that Alice was up so she wouldn't miss school. Then, I sat down on my bed and waited for Will's phone call.

Twenty minutes after the girl he had hired had left the store, Antonio continued to search for his lost ring.

It was in the back room somewhere; it just had to be. There was no way that the girl had stolen it and it was nearly impossible for someone to have entered the room and taken the ring, unless . . . .

Antonio had formulated several theories throughout his continuous search for Leah's ring but he just couldn't see how any of them could be plausible. Prospero and Oberon had long since sealed off the known gateways that allowed travel back and forth between worlds when Antonio had decided to live in the human world and protect the manuscripts. But that was a long time ago and Antonio knew that there were other ways to travel between worlds without using the gateways; however, there were few who knew of these ways and all of those men were either a part of the King's Men or the Sycorax, allies to the Three Thrones.

It didn't make sense to Antonio that any of those men would betray their allegiance to their kings, let alone their entire country. Antonio was very patriotic and would never do something like that, but some people weren't like him. Some people weren't as devoted to the armies of Shakespeare or to their country. Nonetheless, would someone actually go so far as to steal Leah's ring? The ring was special but just like with the gateways, not too many people knew what it was capable of.

What would the thief stand to gain from such an admittedly cunning act of larceny? That was one of the many questions that Antonio would have loved to answer. Besides, selling it for a large profit because of its valuable components, there would be nothing more to gain if the person did not know of the ring's true powers. But then again, what if they did know more about the ring than Antonio wanted to believe they did?

Something clicked in Antonio's mind then. He constantly received reports containing news from the Shakespearean world from various sources and he knew that there was rise in anarchical activity from an unknown group of what Antonio deemed as wily, criminal misfits who were led by a strange woman known as the Dark Lady. The Dark Lady was an enigmatic character, who kept her face concealed behind a mask of tragedy. Perhaps this strange enemy had an interest in Leah's ring. It would make sense if the Dark Lady was seeking to destroy the Three Thrones and the King's Men, but why would anyone wish to destroy such institutions in the first place? For centuries, the Three Thrones and the King's Men have brought peace and prosperity to Shakespeare and why would the Dark Lady and her faction want to destroy such a golden era?

Of course, Antonio didn't have the answer to that question but he was beginning to think of someone who might have a slight idea about what was going on and an idea on who might be behind the robbery that took place tonight. Antonio knew that the girl—Anne was her name—had nothing to do with it and he had been hoping that she had seen the perpetrator; however, she had been unconscious; unconscious from reading one of the manuscripts—another mind-boggling mystery for Antonio to contend with eventually. What had caused Anne to faint? The manuscripts possessed great power in their own rights, but never before had Antonio heard of someone passing out from reading the texts.

Antonio was about to head upstairs to his private apartment that was above the Merchant's Library when he remembered something. He quickly darted down the hallway and into the front room.

The sales floor was empty and devoid of customers. Antonio knew this already because he hadn't heard the bell chime to announce the arrival of visitors to the store since Anne left; however, he wanted to double-check and make sure that he was truly alone. After all, someone had managed to infiltrate his shop already and Antonio didn't want the same thing to happen again and with easier access.

He walked the length of each and every aisle before locking the front door. He flipped the open sign around to read "closed" and he headed back to the back room, hoping that he wouldn't anger potential customers by closing his store nearly two hours early.

Antonio locked the door to the back room upon entry, securing himself and his artifacts. He then ascended the ladder once more and walked in a circle on the second floor, passing the resting place of the Shakespearean manuscripts. Like before, when Anne was with him while he searched for the missing ring, Antonio noticed that the manuscripts were now glowing with a golden light, as if inviting him to read from them. What did this all mean? What was so special about Anne that had caused this? Clearly she had more to do with the situation than Antonio and even Anne knew. Antonio knew she was innocent in the crime that was committed against him but why were peculiar things happening since her arrival? Hopefully, Antonio would know everything soon enough.

Antonio unlocked the door to his apartment with a wave of his hand and a silent command. The door swung open and he stepped inside. He was in a tiny corridor with a staircase that curved upwards. The door closed behind him and Antonio was submerged in darkness temporarily. He mumbled a couple of words and light appeared in the palm of his hands as though he was clutching a flashlight. But he wasn't. With the light guiding him, he climbed the staircase.

At the height of the stairs was another door. It unlocked and opened at Antonio's silent command just like the one downstairs. This door led to the sitting room of Antonio's apartment. The apartment also had a kitchenette, a bathroom, and a bedroom. It was much smaller than Antonio's home had been in Shakespeare but he had made it comfortable enough with his pleasant additions.

The door to the apartment closed magically as well and Antonio made a beeline straight for his bedroom. The light from his hand flew through the air and lit the chandelier above Antonio's bed the moment that he stepped foot into the chamber.

Without pausing, Antonio walked across the room and opened up his closet. Antonio pushed his clothes aside, their metallic hangers clanking loudly. He now faced a seemingly blank wall. Antonio waved a hand and a door appeared out of thin air, now a part of the wall. Antonio twisted the doorknob and stepped into a concealed room.

This room looked much like the stock room downstairs in the store but it was not even half the size. Light illuminated the room from an unseen source and a bronze casket took up most of the space inside of the room as it gleamed in the center. The small chamber was an odd place to store a casket, but the bronze casket was no ordinary casket.

Besides being comprised of bronze, the casket possessed magical capabilities like many inanimate objects that the people of Shakespeare owned. There were three of these magical caskets. The other two were gold and silver and belonged to Prospero and Oberon respectively.

Antonio opened the casket. It was empty, of course. There weren't any dead, mummified bodies inside but just the shiny, bronze interior. Antonio knelt before the casket, closed his eyes and recited several lines:

_To the dread rattling thunder_

_Have I given fire and rifted Jove's stout oak_

_With his own bolt; the strong-based promontory_

_Have I made shake and by the spurs pluck'd up_

_The pine and cedar: graves at my command_

_Have waked their sleepers, oped, and let 'em forth_

_By my so potent art. But this rough magic_

_I here abjure._

At first, nothing happened. But then, as Antonio climbed to his feet, the casket began to glow with a pulsating, bright bronze-colored light that filled the small chamber. The casket slammed itself shut with a bang. Antonio took a step backwards and shielded his eyes. He hated this part of the process. But he knew that it would be over shortly.

And soon enough, the light started to dissolve, disappearing. The casket swung open by itself, without nay assistance from Antonio. The light faded altogether and Antonio peered into the casket.

It first appeared to be empty but then a spectral figure started to rise, moving creepily like something out of a horror movie. The specter was Prospero and he looked like silvery smoke. This was not the true Prospero; however, but rather, it was a ghostly liking of Prospero, a doppelganger or sort to speak.

The shadow of Prospero climbed out of the casket and stood next to Antonio. They faced each other and the specter spoke.

"Antonio, my friend, I have been waiting," the figure of Prospero spoke, sounding exactly like the man it represented. "I have been trying to contact you for quite some time now. Where have you been?"

"I'm sorry, my lord," Antonio apologized to the manifestation, speaking directly to the leader of the King's Men although Prospero was currently not present in the human world inside of Antonio's shop, the Merchant's Library. Antonio knew that wherever Prospero was at the moment—more than likely at his home where he usually kept his own casket, though he has been prone to take it with him on various trips—he was seeing a similar spirit. Only the spirit that Prospero would be seeing was of Antonio. "I was downstairs. Whenever I am downstairs, I cannot know that you are trying to contact me. I will check more often in the future."

"You may not have to," Prospero spoke in a low, calm voice when there should have been perhaps apprehension in his voice. Antonio himself was now feeling a bit apprehensive.

"What do you mean?" Antonio demanded. Did Prospero already know about the missing ring? So wise was he if he did know.

"The Royal Beacons are lit, my friend."

Antonio's eyes grew nearly too large to be contained in his face. He felt a rush of shock and wonder. The Royal Beacons hadn't been lit for centuries.

"The Royal Beacons are lit? Do you know who the person is? The descendant of kings?"

The specter shook its head. "No, not yet," Prospero told Antonio. "But I hope to know soon enough." He sighed. "And that's not all. A lot has been going on since you left. Plans years in the making have been executed already. I fear a rebellion."

Antonio frowned. "What else has happened, my lord?" he questioned anxiously. "Have the Dark Lady attacked any of the kingdoms with her armies of thugs and hooligans?"

The spirit of Prospero shook its head once again. "The Dark Lady has yet to strike. At least not directly."

"I don't understand," Antonio said.

"One of the Golden Kings is dead," Prospero announced. There was emotion in his voice that time. It was of defeat and not of grief, although deep inside, Prospero was troubled and grieving over the lost of King Hamlet.

"Dead?" Antonio echoed and hung his head. He didn't look at the specter as he asked, "Who? Who is it, my lord?"

"King Hamlet," Prospero said simply.

"Oh, no," Antonio gasped. Out of the three Golden Kings, he had had the closest relations with King Hamlet. "Poor Gertrude must be heartbroken. And young Prince Hamlet. The boy is not ready to become king."

"He is not to become king," Prospero informed Antonio, who looked shocked once more.

"What?" Antonio cried in indignation. "Why?"

"Claudius is to be crowned king in a few hours," Prospero proclaimed much to Antonio's dismay. With his absence, the world of Shakespeare was moving towards chaos and he didn't like it at all. Not that he could have done anything to prevent it—not even Prospero seemed to be able to prevent it and he was ten times as powerful as Antonio was.

"Do you think that is a good idea, my lord?" Antonio wanted to know Prospero's opinion and the true motive behind such a bold and rash move. Antonio did not like Claudius. He never had and probably never would. Claudius was a sneaky man and everyone knew that he had wanted to be crowned king of a Golden Throne for years. He had always been jealous of his older brother and Antonio would have liked for someone other than Claudius to become king of Denmark. Why couldn't Gertrude just serve as queen ruler, instead of just queen? In the past, there had been queens who had ruled smaller kingdoms, or _queen_doms as they liked to call them, but never before had there been a female ruler of one of the three Golden Kingdoms and it could have been a precedented event if Gertrude became ruler. "Claudius has always wanted to be king. For all we know, he could have had King Hamlet murdered."

"That was what young Horatio thought as well," Prospero said. "But the King simply died in his sleep, of natural causes."

"He could have been poisoned," Antonio suggested.

"Perhaps," Prospero agreed. "But like I told Horatio, we will learn the truth eventually. What is done in the dark always come to the light."

"Can't you do something?" Antonio asked Prospero. "Can't you stop this from happening?"

"I'm afraid not, my dear Antonio. King Henry and King Duncan have been told that Prince Hamlet is in no right mind to rule a kingdom. He has been declared insane when I just believe that the boy is extremely intelligent, but because of such information, Henry and Duncan have decided that the prince cannot be king, which makes Claudius the natural heir as it should be anyways had King Hamlet not amended the law years before he died."

Then, the deed was done and hope was lost. The remaining two Golden Kings had made a decision and there was nothing no one could do about it, not even someone as influential as Prospero.

"Claudius was probably the one who supplanted such lies!" Antonio stated knowledgeably.

"He did tell Henry and Duncan about the prince's condition," Prospero said, stating facts and not accusations, reserving judgment for the day that Claudius was ever proven guilty of such a heinous crime. "And they made their decision accordingly."

"I knew it," Antonio was pleased with himself.

"Gertrude gave testimony as well," Prospero said.

"Why would she do that?" Antonio couldn't figure it out for the life of him. "Why would she make it easier for her dead husband's brother to come to power? What's in it for her?"

"I don't know, Antonio," Prospero's voice was suddenly grave and the specter was mimicking his current facial expression. "So many questions and not enough the answers. But the answers will come soon enough. For now, I want you to ensure that the ring is kept safe. I fear that many very powerful, magical artifacts are being discovered by our new enemies and we don't wanna make it easier for them to find them."

Antonio was suddenly uneasy. "That's what I was contacting you for, my lord," he said quickly. "The ring. It has been . . . It is—"

"—Gone," Prospero finished, already cottoning on. "Then, it is happening."

Antonio was baffled. "What is happening? Prospero, what is going on?"

"The Prophecy, the Royal Beacons, the Relics, they are all connected," Prospero sought to explain without really explaining; Antonio was still standing there, looking utterly confused. "Everything is happening now and I have already set some plans in motion myself."

"What plans?"

"I've got Othello returning so that we can discuss the Relics. Desdemona is contacting him right now as we speak. I've sent Mercutio and Orlando to find Caliban so that the Sycorax could be fully involved in all of this. And Titania has the Fairy Wings in the skies, providing aerial coverage of the palace, the Three Thrones, and some of the surrounding areas. Until we find out whom the Prophecy speaks of, we must be careful and remain on alert at all times. I might even bring you back home now that the ring is gone. We may need a safer place for the manuscripts and it seems that even among the humans, precious artifacts can be taken."

Speaking of artifacts, Antonio recalled something then and it sent chills up and down his spine. "The manuscripts. One of them was read earlier today by a human girl. I wanted to talk to you about—"

But by then, it was Prospero's turn to look shocked. "Which one?"

"Henry IV," Antonio told him. "What does it all mean? What is so special about the manuscripts, other than the fact that they seem to predict the future."

"I will explain everything to you later, Antonio, I swear. But right now, we have a problem."

"A problem?"

"We must find that girl, the one who read from the manuscript. She is the key."

"The key to what?" Antonio wanted to know. He hated being out of the loop.

But by now, Prospero was distracted. "When Othello arrives I am going to send him there with a small team. We must find the girl. Do you know any information about her, Antonio?"

Antonio shook his head sadly. "I had hired her to work here and I was going to have her fill out a form, but I made her leave before she could do so." Antonio sighed and then explained further. "When she had told me that the ring had been taken, I knew that she didn't have anything to do with it, but I kind of lost my cool there for a second anyways. I was frustrated and I acted rashly and I am sorry, my lord."

"There's no need to apologize, Antonio," Prospero told him. "Just try and find her. Help will arrive soon enough."

Antonio was going to ask why the girl was important but he didn't because of two things. The first was that he knew that Prospero would not give him a concrete answer and would withhold information from him for now. And the second was that he had heard something pelt against the window out in his bedroom, something solid.

Prospero had heard it too. "What was that?" The specter inquired.

Antonio was looking back over his shoulder. "I don't know. Something tapped against my bedroom window. It was probably nothing."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, it happened again. Only this time, there was a—

CRASH! The window shattered and Antonio could hear something heavy and muffled rolling across the carpeted floor.

Antonio was in outrage. "What the—"

"What happened?" Prospero wondered. Apparently, he could hear a slight tapping noise but not the shattering of glass.

"Someone just broke my damn window!" Antonio cried.

"Tend to the matter," Prospero said. "I shall remain until your return."

Antonio nodded and stormed out of the tiny room and back into his bedroom. He looked down, peering through the dark gloom and saw a rock about the size of a fist resting on the floor at the foot of his bed. His eyes followed a path of destruction—broken glass—to the window that was shattered, a rock-sized hole having destroyed most of one of the panels.

Antonio walked slowly and cautiously towards the window, keeping his body hidden in the shadows so that whoever was outside would not see him until after he had seen him or her. Who would do something like this? Antonio wondered. Perhaps the thief had returned and was taunting him.

Antonio pressed his back up against the wall immediately to the left of the window. Another rock pelted the window, but it was no more than a mere pebble and didn't do any damage. Antonio leaned to the right and peered out the window, the bright moonlight blinding him for just a split-second until his eyes had time to adjust from the abrupt change in lighting.

A boy stood out in the alley behind Antonio's store and home. He looked very familiar, a little too familiar. Antonio sighed with relief and opened the broken window. He knew this boy.

Glass chunks fell to the carpet below as Antonio lifted the window with ease. Will waved up at him, although his face was not looking too pleasant. Antonio wondered why Will was paying him a visit out of the blue. What a strange day. Antonio promised himself that before the day came to a close and it was all said and done, he was going to fill his bathtub up to the brim with piping hot water and relax for at least an hour and allow the water to soothe his body.

"Will!" Antonio hissed, poking his head out the open window. "You broke my window!"

"I know," Will told him. "It was the only way I could get your attention. I tried the door downstairs but it was locked."

"What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to talk to you," Will told him. "May I be allowed inside?"

Antonio considered it for a moment. He still had to finish his conversation with Prospero, whose magical clone was waiting by the bronze casket in the adjacent and normally hidden side room. And later that night, perhaps, if Prospero managed to speak with Othello within the next few days—time moved differently in the Shakespearean world than it did in the human world—Antonio was informed that Othello would be arriving with a search team to assist him in finding the girl—Anne Hathaway.

"I'm afraid not," Antonio denied Will entry into the Merchant's Library and prevented the boy from telling him the purpose of his visit. Antonio hated to be rude but there were more pressing matters at hand than for him to listen to whatever Will would have to tell him. "Now is not a good time, Will. I'm sorry."

"Please, Antonio," Will was not planning on leaving without pleading. After all, he had promised Anne that he would speak to Antonio and he didn't want to go without having fulfilled his promise to his girlfriend. Besides, he was supposed to call Anne later and he wanted to call her with what hopefully would be a piece of good news to ease her troubled mind. "I beg of you and I implore you to allow me at least ten, fifteen minutes of your time. I will not take long."

"Can it not wait until tomorrow?" Prospero asked. "I'm having visitors soon."

"Is that why you closed your shop early?" Will asked.

"Yes," Antonio replied truthfully. "I have some important matters to attend to, but I promise you that we can talk tomorrow."

Will looked down at the ground. He didn't want this; however, if Antonio had "important matters" to attend to, then Will had no choice but to allow him to do so without interruptions. Maybe it had something to do with the ring.

Will looked up at Antonio, knowing that he was about to let Anne down. "Okay, tomorrow then," he spoke quietly. "Just let me know when and uh . . . sorry about the window." He stalked off into the night.

Antonio watched him leave quietly and he waved a hand near the window. The glass on the floor rose and twisted through the air magically before resealing the hole in the window.

With his window perfectly normal again, Antonio returned to finish speaking with Prospero and to prepare for the arrival of several members of the King's Men . . . and an unexpected visitor . . . .


	5. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five**

Caliban's entire world was spinning. He was out of control, twisting and turning through a swirling void where a concept of time and place did not exist. This was Caliban's least favorite way to travel; however, it was the only method of travel to the very site he wanted to reach. For the second time in nearly a week, Caliban was returning to the human world.

By now, Caliban was an expert on traveling back and forth between the human world and the world of Shakespeare. He had done it on countless occasions and should have been used to the jolting and the head-over-heels falling through nothingness like the vacuum of space by now only if he didn't hate the jolting and the falling. It felt like he had been thrown from a bucking horse that was traveling at top speed.

There were other ways of transport to the human world and Caliban knew about a few of them since he was the leader of the Sycorax and a trusted ally of the King's Men; however, the way he was currently traveling was the only know route by the Dark Lady. Caliban had never mentioned the other ways to her. She already suspected him of being a spy for the Three Thrones, although she had never voiced such an opinion aloud, and he didn't want to remind her that he had ties to the Sycorax. So, he had remained quiet and thus, he had to travel to the human world feeling as though he was on the world's worst thrill ride that was ever invented. But if all of his plans worked out, the trip would definitely be worth it.

Caliban was returning to the human world for a very important mission. After convincing the Dark Lady to place faith in the Prophecy of the Sycorax, although he hadn't told her everything about the prophecy, she had allowed him to go to the human world to locate the girl who had read from the glowing manuscripts. Caliban had only seen her once before when he had come to claim Leah's ring, one of the Seven Relics from Antonio's shop called the Merchant's Library.

Caliban cursed himself for not grabbing the girl then when he had the perfect opportunity. She had been unconscious and he probably could have grabbed her and taken her back to Shakespeare with him without her waking up or even alerting Antonio to his arrival. It would have been quick and easy and he would have killed two birds with one stone. But now, he was traveling back to finish the job.

When he was there last time, Caliban hadn't been one hundred percent sure that the girl had even read from one of the manuscripts. It wasn't confirmed until he witnessed the spectacle outside of Lanier Castle, with the disappearance of the Seven Relics and the appearance of the gold-silver crown in the sky, which in turn, as he knew knowledgably, brought about the lighting of the Royal Beacons. Now, he was positive. The girl had read from the manuscript and the girl was now special. Caliban would find her and she will assist him in his own personal plans.

Without warning, the void faded away and Caliban dropped silently into a dark room, landing stealthily in the center of an aisle, with a row of bookshelves on either side of him. His journey was complete. Caliban had returned to the Merchant's Library.

Caliban looked around. His first matter to attend to would be to locate Antonio's position within the building. Caliban wasn't really worried about safety. He was completely safe because there was no way that Antonio could see him. Caliban was wearing a magical cloak, his most prized possession that had been recently returned to him after the fiasco with the Seven Relics. The cloak was from a rare collection from a famous tailor in the merchant based free lands of Padua. What was special about the cloak was that it could make its wearer invisible and could protect the wearer from most magical spells and charms; however, one drawback was that the wearer could not cast magical spells while wearing the cloak. That was why Caliban needed to know of Antonio's whereabouts. There was only part of his mission that he was actually worried about, a part where he had to remove the cloak in order to perform a complex charm. If he knew where Antonio was, then it would be easy for him to perform the charm in peace. There was another power that the cloak possessed and it would come in handy soon more so than keeping Caliban invisible.

Caliban walked down the aisle quietly. He treaded across the floor softly because although he was invisible, he could still make noise and alert Antonio to his presence. Caliban quickly reached a doorway and instead of walking through the door and down the hallway, he stepped straight into the wall to the right of the doorway. He held his breath for just a moment—he had never utilized this particular power of the cloak's before.

He walked straight through the wall as though it wasn't even there. And he had done so without much thought. He didn't know how the cloak did it but it helped him walk through a solid barrier, yet he was not sinking through the floor beneath his feet. It was amazing how powerful and . . . precise the cloak was.

Caliban was in a tiny room, a bathroom. He kept moving forward and through the next wall. He was now in the room that he had been in several days ago, although in the human world it had only been several hours. He was in Antonio's private room, the place where Antonio stored his precious artifacts. Some of the artifacts even possessed magical abilities much like the cloak that Caliban was garbed or like the ring that he had taken earlier.

But Caliban wasn't here for any of these artifacts. Even though some of them were magical, he had no interest in them. He only had eyes for the manuscripts or one manuscript in particular, the one that the girl had read from earlier. Finding the exact manuscript would help him in finding her.

Caliban strode across the room, weaving through junk and treasures. He climbed the ladder slowly so his boots would not clang too loudly against the metal steps. He was still on the lookout for Antonio. Where was he? He was probably in his apartment at such an hour of the night.

Caliban spied the closed door that was locked by magic. The door led to Antonio's apartment and the magical protections would be no use for Caliban and his enchanted cloak.

Caliban walked slowly towards the door, listening intently all the while. He wished there was a spell for him to hear what was going on behind the locked door, but he knew not of a charm. And even if a charm existed, it probably wouldn't have been able to penetrate Antonio's defenses at any rate.

Caliban reached the door and walked through it. He was in a very dark hallway. He could barely make out the stairs in front of him that twisted their way to the upper floor. The corridor was empty and Caliban ascended the stairs carefully, checking and double-checking that his body was completely covered by the cloak. He took the stairs one at a time, placing his feet down carefully against the stone. At the top, he came to another door and he stepped through it slowly.

Caliban looked around once his entire body was through the door. Antonio was nowhere in sight. He was in a parlor room now. Beyond this room was an opened doorway and inside Caliban could hear movement. Antonio was in his bedroom and he wasn't asleep. Satisfied that he knew of Antonio's whereabouts, Caliban turned around and headed back for the private room to get a glimpse of the manuscripts.

Suddenly—

There was a flash of light outside of the nearby window. Caliban froze and regarded the night sky beyond out of sheer curiosity. The flash of light had caught his attention and he walked over to the window for a closer inspection.

Caliban witnessed a spectacle. A shooting star fell across the sky, growing brighter and brighter with each passing second. Then, the star seemed to get closer and closer and when Caliban thought that surely people outside would notice the strange event, he heard movement behind him. Antonio was entering the room.

Caliban stepped away from the window quickly and quietly and eased his way towards the exit. Antonio shuffled into the room, dressed in his bedclothes and peered through the window. Something was going on and Caliban felt a sudden sense of urgency. Just why was Antonio still wide-awake after the stroke of midnight?

He spun away from Antonio and stepped through the closed door. Caliban darted down the steps with silent stealth and was through the door at the bottom before he realized it. He had to hurry. He had to do what he was there to do and then leave as soon as possible.

Caliban walked across the second floor of the room of artifacts and when he had reached the section of bookshelves where the manuscripts were glowing, he paused and listened. Not hearing anything, he noticed something then.

The manuscripts were glowing and that was odd. They hadn't been glowing when he had entered the place earlier. Now, they were shining with effulgence that seemed to radiate from the books themselves.

Caliban reached out from underneath his cloak to touch one of them. They were inviting him to read from them. Caliban was aware of the strange effects that these manuscripts had on people. After all, they had been created years ago with extremely powerful magic, of the likes that not even Prospero would know about. Although he knew that he should resist the nearly irresistible charms of the manuscripts, Caliban was unsure if he really wanted to resist. There would be no harm done from reading the books, right?

Well, it depended on which one. Caliban was aware that each manuscript was unique and was bound to some type of spell and enchantment. Apparently the one that the girl had read from was connected to the disappearance of the Seven Relics. Caliban had heard Prospero mention it once but he had no idea about the complicated process involving just how deeply one of the manuscripts was connected with the Seven Relics. Caliban just hoped by locating the girl, he would know all about the connection.

Caliban looked down at the manuscript that he had in his hands. The cover was bare so he turned to the first page. The manuscript was called _The Tempest_. When Caliban read the title, he snapped the book shut instantly and returned it to the shelf, breathing hard. It was a good thing that he had done so because at that moment, he could hear Antonio coming down the stairs.

Caliban turned to face the second story door and waited. Antonio came through the door moments later and closed it behind him with a wave of his hand. He was oblivious to Caliban, who was standing just a few feet away from him, concealed beneath the tailor's cloak.

Antonio descended the ladder and Caliban waited patiently for him to disappear through the door downstairs. When he did, Caliban turned back to face the manuscripts and picked up another one at random.

It was entitled _All's Well That Ends Well_. Caliban listened intently for a few seconds. Silence was all that he could hear if he could hear silence that is. He waited. The bells of the front door to the shop chimed and the front door closed gently. Antonio had gone outside. Caliban didn't know how long that he would be gone. It was now or never.

Caliban threw off the cloak and appeared out of thin air. The cloak fell to the floor and wrapped itself around his booted feet, resembling silk that was . . . that was well . . . clear, for lack of a better description. Caliban disregarded the cloak for the time being, hoping that Antonio would give him warning when he returned.

Caliban held the heavy tome out at nearly arms length but he didn't open the book at all. Instead, he closed his eyes and performed a complex, but short spell, all the while praying that he had picked up the right book—the book that the girl had read. The spell would tell him everything that he needed to know and soon enough he would know if this was the manuscript that she had read earlier that day.

It wasn't the right book though, as Caliban found out all too quickly. He returned it to the shelf and moved down the line one at a time. The next manuscript that he checked was _Othello_ and it yielded the same results. Caliban grinned though as he returned the book to its home—he would have love to read about Othello and find out what had been penned about him many years ago.

The manuscripts continued to glow gold. They were as welcoming as ever but Caliban resisted. He was on a mission and was not there to read the stories. He was there to learn the name of the girl and receive a mental picture of her. He needed to hurry before Antonio returned because he didn't know how long Antonio would be outside. Maybe Antonio was investigating the shooting star. Perhaps he would be a while. Still, Caliban needed to hurry.

The third book gave him nothing and neither did the fourth book. Caliban paused to listen again. It had been a while since he had stopped to listen and for all he knew, Antonio could have returned and caught him exposed with the magical cloak at his feet. But Antonio hadn't returned yet. Caliban had time to continue his search, but how long would it be before Antonio finally returned to the shop?

It was while Caliban was in the middle of performing the complicated charm on the sixth book that the front door swung open once more with a bell chime. Caliban kept up his concentration. This had to be the right Shakespearean manuscript or he would have to hide beneath the cloak and wait for Antonio to return upstairs to his apartment. Caliban held on tightly to _Henry IV _and held his breath.

Voices came from the sales floor then. Multiple voices. Antonio was not alone anymore and apparently he had visitors. Caliban couldn't hear exactly what was being said as most of his senses were attuned to the spell that he was casting but he could hear that they were drawing nearer. It was only a matter of time before Antonio and his visitors arrived. Caliban just knew that it was the police. Antonio had finally reported that his ring had been stolen and the human police had come to investigate. Caliban could not allow them to find him that easily . . . or even at all. Surely, he would have no problem at all escaping from a human jail but what would Antonio think about him being in the human world. Antonio would put two and two together and then the King's Men and the Sycorax would believe that Caliban was truly a servant of the Dark Lady. And Caliban would never subjugate himself to be so.

The spell was complete suddenly and the name "Anne Hathaway" floated into Caliban's mind. This was it. This was the very manuscript that she had read. The charm had revealed that information to him. A mental image later and Caliban was closing the book and stuffing it back onto the shelf. He snapped his fingers once and a picture of Anne Hathaway appeared in his hands as though it had been there all along and he was throwing the cloak back over himself just as someone was entering the room.

Perfectly hidden, Caliban watched Antonio cross over the threshold and into the stockroom, still oblivious to his presence. A short girl who seemed to shimmer unnaturally floated gracefully in behind Antonio. Caliban knew this girl of course. She was Prospero's servant, the spirit-girl Ariel. The King's Men had arrived at the Merchant's Library tonight. Caliban had been wrong. It hadn't been the police that had come and he was truly glad that he was concealed beneath the tailor's cloak.

Puck, the fairy, followed Ariel and Antonio into the room and as he looked around, his eyes were as large as baseballs. He ogled Antonio's belongings with great interest, making excited murmurings to himself.

Behind Puck was a very pretty girl with brown hair and vivid green eyes. Caliban recognized her as well. Her name was Rosalind and Caliban wondered why three young members of the King's Men had come to visit Antonio. Surely, they weren't there because Leah's ring was missing. Prospero would have sent higher-ranking members than those three.

But wait . . . .

There was a fourth person who had called at such an hour of the night. He strode into the room with a type of poise that came from years of military training and experience. Whenever he walked into a room, he made sure that people were aware of his presence. His height was average but the way he carried himself made him appear taller than he actually was. He had eyes that were sharp and focused and he had a beautiful sword hilted on the right side of his waist. Around his neck was an amulet with a purple crystal—amethyst?—as the charm. Both his sword and the crystal gleamed.

He was Prospero's and Oberon's right hand man, the only person who was so highly ranked in the King's Men that he was next in line to replace either Prospero or Oberon when the right time came. He was a person who was usually at odds with Caliban based on their completely different ways of thinking. Caliban admitted that he was his rival and the two of them tolerated each other but they were definitely not friends. Associates maybe. His name was Othello.

Caliban wasn't shocked at all to see Othello there. Usually when there were matters to attend to that neither Prospero nor Oberon wished to oversee personally, Othello was nearly always chosen for the job. But what Caliban couldn't figure out was why he was there with three young soldiers for the King's Men. What purpose did they serve? Was this a learning experience for them?

Intrigued, Caliban found himself drifting automatically towards the group as they walked across the room on the lower floor. His search for Anne Hathaway would be temporarily delayed until he learned the reason why Othello and three other King's Men had journeyed into the human world. Beneath the cloak, Caliban stuffed the photograph of Anne into his pants pocket silently.

It wasn't as if the party downstairs could hear him anyways. Puck was babbling on and on now, telling Ariel and Rosalind about his fascination with the objects in the human world.

"Did you see how the buildings were constructed outside?" Puck asked Rosalind and Ariel, or whoever would listen to him. "So simple, crude, yet splendid. It amazes me how humans can thrive so well without magic."

Rosalind smiled. "Everything amazes you, Puck," she said, looking just as amazed as Puck was. They had never been to the human world before and the first trip was always an eye-opening experience. Shakespeareans had always been aware that other worlds existed, yet experiencing another world first hand made that world all the more real.

"True," Puck agreed with Rosalind. "But here, my amazement is different, more profound. I just feel like . . . WOW!"

Without warning, Puck darted across the stockroom, after his shrill cry of excitement. He moved in a blur, flapping his wings hard and fast, and came to a quick halt in front of a tall dresser.

"What is this contraption?" Puck questioned Antonio. He was holding a small wooden box with a rounded top and several knobs.

Antonio looked over, as did the others. Rosalind and Ariel looked curious, while Othello looked passive. Like Caliban, he didn't give away any emotions through facial expressions.

"It's a radio," Antonio told Puck. "It's an old one from the 1950s. If you turn the right knob—"

But the rest of Antonio's words were drowned out as a blast of modern hip-hop music erupted from the speaker of the radio. Puck had obviously turned one of the knobs on the radio before Antonio could tell him how to operate the radio properly.

The music was loud and booming, the volume dial turned all the way up. Puck shrieked at the sudden noise of deep, bassy music and vulgar spoken lyrics, and dropped the radio in shock. Antonio saw the antique radio falling to the ground and he waved his hand.

The radio stopped in mid-fall and floated in the air past Puck and company, who were covering up their ears to protect themselves from the blaring sounds. Antonio caught the radio and quickly turned it off. He then glared at Puck.

Puck uncovered his ears and grinned sappily at Antonio. "Sorry," he apologized.

"For now on, no more touching things," Antonio scolded Puck like he was a small child. "I have already lost one of my precious valuables today and I do not wish to lose a second one."

Puck nodded and promised that he would be good. Rosalind rolled her eyes and scoffed. Puck shot her a dirty look and mouthed the words, "What are you laughing at?"

Ariel regarded Antonio with intrigue. Caliban noticed the ghostly hair bow that was attached to her long, shimmering hair. There was a blue sapphire-like gem that gleamed like the rest of Ariel's body. Somehow the gem resembled the one that Othello was wearing around his neck, only that it was a different color.

"What was that god awful ruckus?" she questioned Antonio about the radio. "It was almost like music but it was too rough."

"That's what a radio does," Antonio explained. "It plays music broadcasts from radio stations."

"But like Ariel said," Rosalind commented, "_that _wasn't music."

"It _was _music," Antonio said with a chuckle, finding this conversation very amusing. "It was what the human youngsters call rap music. It is comprised of computer-made music with semi-spoken lyrics in a certain rhythm."

"What's a computer?" Rosalind wondered.

"But it didn't have any flutes in the song," Puck complained simultaneously about the music that Antonio had called rap.

Antonio had forgotten that his visitors didn't know much about the human world and hadn't lived there for a while like he had. Caliban nearly chuckled himself but remembered that he was hiding and should not alert the King's Men to his presence.

Antonio was about to explain to Rosalind what a computer was but Othello stopped him.

"As curious as we all might be about computers and radios, we should continue up to your sitting room, Antonio," he spoke in a deep, booming tenor voice that meant business. "We have much to discuss and not much time to discuss it. Anne Hathaway must be located as soon as possible."

So, they were after Anne Hathaway as well. Of course, Caliban thought. Of course, he should have known all along that Antonio had told Prospero that the girl had read from one of the manuscripts, one that was apparently linked to the Seven Relics somehow. But why had Antonio allowed her to leave the Merchant's Library. That was interesting.

Everything about the situation was interesting and Caliban wanted to learn more. Othello had brought a young team to help him look for Anne Hathaway and the only reason for that Caliban could think of was that Othello was trying to get them some field experience to train them for something bigger.

The world of Shakespeare was on the brink of war. The skies knew that—so dark and sunless as they were most days now; the winds knew that as they were forever cold and biting, especially in the north; and the earth knew that—several barren lands had been created recently and many villages were experiencing famines. Caliban also knew that a war was imminent, so did Prospero, Oberon, and Othello.

Caliban had ties to both the Sycorax and the Dark Lady's entourage, so he probably knew a little bit more than the leaders of the King's Men; however, Caliban was no fool. Prospero was the greatest mystic—a practitioner of magic—that Caliban and the world of Shakespeare had ever known. And Oberon and Othello hadn't gotten to the position they were in by being fools either.

There was civil unrest already in one of the Three Thrones. Revolutionary forces were already gathering in England in an attempt to overthrow King Henry IV. If the revolutionary movement were successful, then it would be the first time in history that one of the Three Thrones had been usurped. The Three Thrones were always to be protected above the rest of Shakespeare and the King's Men, as well as the Sycorax and Fairy Wings, would have a huge hand in helping to protect England from the rebel.

But it would be a difficult job, Caliban knew, and he would have to relay the information that he had learned from being a part of the Dark Lady's faction to the King's Men and his own band of swordsmen. Ah, the joys of being a double agent.

Right now, King Henry IV and his close supporters believed that only Owen Glendower, the dictator of Wales, a small neighboring country of England, was egging on the revolutionary movement. Little did the king know that even some of his close supporters were in on the rebellion, such as Hotspur. It will be a rude awakening for King Henry once he found out such vital information.

Not only was a civil war taking place in England, but several other countries outside of the general borders of the Three Thrones were experiencing contention for leadership and the anger of the commoners. Norway was a military led free land, struggling to create a democratic state under the leadership of Lord Fortinbras. Wales, under the control of Glendower, of course, was suffering from anarchical citizens who wanted rid of Glendower. Those few, small rebellions were typically crushed quickly because eighty percent of the population of Wales revered Glendower as a national hero and compared him to the mythical King Arthur in many aspects. However, if the small anti-Glendower forces ever amassed a large movement or received help from an outside source, then who knew what would happen. Other than that, the remaining Free Lands of Shakespeare were enjoying peace and cooperation, although the peace between Greece and Troy have been threatened several times, especially now that the city of Athens had separated from Greece and formed its own city-state. Greece and Troy were vying for major influence in that region.

Then, there was the Dark Lady and her newly formed alliance with the Critics. Caliban didn't know much about the mysteriously strange beings yet, but he knew a lot about the concordance between the Dark Lady and the Critics. Caliban didn't trust anyone much in his line of work and he really didn't trust the Critics. For one, no one knew much about them, as they appeared suddenly in the world of Shakespeare as seemingly pacifist beings, and for some reason, Caliban always felt that they would not live up to their end of the bargain. The Critics didn't seem the type of people to take orders from someone like the Dark Lady.

Nonetheless, a bond between the two parties had been formed and both parties were planning to march to war against anyone of Shakespeare who resisted them. They had secured one of the Golden Thrones with Claudius becoming King of Denmark. And now, it was time to secure England before moving on to Scotland. Anne Hathaway was more important in all of this than even Caliban could imagine.

"Right you are, Othello," Antonio said, agreeing with the moor. "Very well then, shall we head upstairs."

Antonio climbed up the ladder with Rosalind right behind him. Ariel, Puck, and Othello took a different approach. Ariel floated up to the second floor, while Puck flew, and Othello simply leapt up to the landing.

"Showoff," Rosalind muttered to Puck the moment that she had joined the rest of the group. She stood a few feet away from Caliban, who surveyed the group from beneath the hood of the tailor's gown. Puck grinned.

The five of them headed swiftly for Antonio's apartment. Caliban trailed them slowly and softly, his footsteps careful and precise. He didn't want to get too close to Rosalind and Puck who took up the rear, yet he also didn't want any of them to hear him. All it took was for one of them to ram into him or one simple tug and he would be exposed. It would be very difficult then to explain to them that he had nothing to do with stealing the ring nor was he truly a bad guy. But then, again, he _had_ stolen the ring, so he would be lying there.

When they walked through the first door, Caliban hesitated and allowed the door to magically seal shut behind them again. Then, he walked through the door with caution, ensuring that Rosalind and Puck had started ascending the stairs so that he wouldn't slam right into one of them. Next, he followed them up the steps and hesitated before entering the second door.

The chandelier in Antonio's sitting room was now lit. The place was no longer dark. Antonio offered his guests a seat at either his sofa or a couple of chairs that he had placed in the room for his company. Only Rosalind sat down. Ariel preferred to hover behind Rosalind and Othello stood in a corner of the room, half-hidden in shadow. Puck, who was forever excited, was standing in the center of the sitting room, taking in all of the wondrous sights.

"Don't touch anything," Antonio warned Puck, as he joined Rosalind on the couch. "Would anyone like some tea?" He offered afterwards.

Caliban noticed the pitcher and some cups on the table in front of Antonio and Rosalind. He was standing on the opposite side of the room, by the open window, just in case he had to make a quick escape. Rosalind and Puck accepted some tea but Othello and Ariel, of course, declined Antonio's offer.

Puck graciously accepted his cup of steaming hot tea and immediately dashed over to gaze into the glass of a floor modeled television set. He was staring at his distorted reflection and giggling hysterically.

Rosalind regarded him, sipped her tea, and rolled her eyes. "What's so funny, Puck?"

"My reflection," Puck giggled. He looked back at Antonio. "What is this strange mirror? My face is all distorted."

"It is not a mirror," Antonio explained. "It is a television."

"What is its purpose? Besides making me look silly."

Rosalind scoffed. "It doesn't take much to make you look silly, Puck," she commented.

Ariel chuckled at Rosalind's putdown while Puck licked his tongue out at her. They were so young, so immature. Caliban was still as shocked as ever that they were on an important mission with Othello.

"A television displays moving pictures," Antonio explained in lamens terms how a television operated. Puck stared at him with much interest, an interest that seemed eager. Caliban knew that he wanted to touch the television even though Antonio had told him not to. "Sound is also—"

But Antonio was suddenly drowned out by the sounds that were blaring from the television set. It was a late-night news broadcast and Antonio rushed across the room, nearly spilling his teacup and the contents everywhere. He was furious when he glared at Puck, who tried to look as innocent as possible—like a child caught red-handed with his hand in the cookie jar.

Antonio turned the volume all the way down on the TV, but he left it on, more than likely to humor Puck. He continued to glare at the fairy. From the sofa, Rosalind was shaking her head at Puck's insolence.

"What did I tell you about—" Antonio began but was cut off a second time as Puck, Rosalind, and Ariel all stared at the television screen in amazement.

Puck pointed at the screen, inches away from touching the TV set again. "They're moving!" he cried, shocked. "Are there really people on the other side of the glass?"

Antonio shrugged. Caliban could tell that he was growing weary with explaining human stuff to the Shakespeareans. At first it had been fun but now it was becoming too much of a hassle for him.

"In a way, yes," Antonio attempted to explain. "What you see here on the screen is recorded images from earlier today as well as a live feed from a local news station."

Puck's mouth fell open. He was blatantly confused. Ariel and Rosalind just stared at Antonio.

Antonio sighed and thought of a better way of explaining the function of a television. He was about to speak when Othello cleared his throat from the corner.

"Right," Antonio said, remembering that there were more important matters to attend to than telling the youngsters what televisions did. Antonio returned to his seat and all was silent. He, along with the others, Caliban included, was waiting for Othello to speak. Puck was staring at the television screen with longing, an almost nostalgic look on his face.

Othello stepped out of the shadows and made a dramatic reappearance. "As you all know, Anne Hathaway, is our target for this mission," he began, his voice booming like usual. "I don't know how much Prospero has cued you in on, Antonio, but we must find her as soon as possible."

Antonio sipped his tea, swallowed, and made an inquiry. "Why is she so important, Othello?"

"Because of the Relics," Othello replied simply.

"But why is that?" Antonio wanted desperately to know. "Why is the manuscript that she read tied to the Seven Relics? I don't understand."

"Sadly, my friend, I do not understand completely myself," Othello confessed. "Prospero is as enigmatic as ever. Sometimes it troubles me that he likes to withhold information from his closest friends until the last possible minute; however, I know that if Prospero has a reason for not telling us much, then it is a good reason."

"Has anything happened with the Seven Relics? Have they all been discovered by the thief who snatched Leah's ring?" Antonio had more questions for Othello, trying to milk the commander for all he knew since Antonio believed that Othello knew a little bit more about what was going on than he did.

"Yes, they all were discovered," Othello told him.

Antonio gasped. "By whom? Then, that would mean—"

But Othello shook his head. "It doesn't mean anything _yet_," he emphasized. "The Relics were found by the Dark Lady and her followers. Spies for the King's Men confirmed this to Prospero as soon as they could but Prospero never worried about what the Dark Lady could do with ultimate power. He was as calm and reserved as ever. And then, when the Dark Lady had all of the Relics gathered into one location, something strange and unexplainable happened."

Caliban listened very closely. He didn't know that there were other spies for the King's Men that were a part of the Dark Lady's faction. So young, naïve, and stupid she was. As a double agent, he would have to inform her of this information, even though he didn't truly want to. The Dark Lady had a lot to learn if she wanted to rule all of Shakespeare.

"What happened?" Rosalind wondered. Apparently, like Antonio, as well as Puck and Ariel, she didn't know what had taken place at Lanier Castle about a week ago. Caliban knew of course because he had been there. He had witnessed the spectacle firsthand. It was all a part of the Prophecy of the Sycorax, a prophecy that not too many people placed their faith in.

"The Relics simply disappeared," Othello said. "That was at the same time that the Royal Beacons were lit and the Star Crown appeared in the night sky."

Antonio gasped a second time. "Could that mean that Anne Hathaway is the descendant of kings? Could that mean that she is the heir we have been looking for?"

Othello shook his head. "I don't think so and neither does Prospero and Oberon. What we do know, however, is that Anne Hathaway is bound to the Seven Relics by reading one of the manuscripts. I believe that if we are to recover them again, then she will be the key."

"What about Prospero?" Ariel questioned. She seldom spoke and it was always weird to hear her bizarre, ethereal voice. "Doesn't he know where the Seven Relics are hidden? We can just recover all of them before the Dark Lady is aware of what happened and before she tries to find them again."

"It's not that simple," Othello informed all of them. "Originally, Prospero hid the Seven Relics years ago. When they were found the Dark Lady, he lost the connection that he had to them. Now, that they have been hidden again, this time by themselves, he does not know where they are hiding. Only Anne might know. Maybe . . . Perhaps . . . That is to say if my speculations are correct. Somehow, when she read from the manuscript, the Relics vanished. Now, I believe that she is the only person who could find them. Prospero had protected the Relics with various complex spells and I think that this is a protective measure that he had instilled, although he won't tell me."

"So, the Dark Lady has no idea where the Relics are hidden now?" Puck asked, no longer obsessed with the television set. The conversation so far had really been holding his interest. This was what he had joined the King's Men for—hearing exciting news like this.

"Yes," Othello replied knowledgably. "She is just as clueless as we are. That is why Anne is so important. We need to find her and have her help our side before the Dark Lady catches on and sends a team of her followers here to find her as well. Nowadays, spies work both ways and I am positive that she has a few spies within the ranks of the King's Men and perhaps even the Sycorax."

Othello's eyes found Caliban's and for a half of a second, Caliban thought that Othello could see him somehow, standing there beneath the tailor's cloak, but of course, Caliban knew that Othello couldn't see him. How ironic though that Othello managed to look in Caliban's general direction the moment that he mentioned the Dark Lady having spies in the King's Men and in particular, the Sycorax.

"Spies?" Antonio echoed in outrage. "There aren't any spies in the King's Men! That's ludicrous!" For the second time in the same night, Antonio had to face the thought of his allies not being as loyal and patriotic as he was. He just would not accept the fact that even members of the King's Men and perhaps the Sycorax could become corrupted by evil.

"I wished that was the case, Antonio, but it is not," Othello told him the grim truth. "There _are _several spies in the King's Men and slowly we are trying to find out just who those spies are."

"There can't be any spies," Antonio refused to believe it. "The Dark Lady just knows."

"She is not that powerful," Othello burst his bubble. "Not even Prospero can know all."

Antonio sipped his tea and fell silent. He didn't wish to argue with Othello, who he knew was right of course, even if he himself did not want to accept this.

"So, now, we need to figure out what's our best course of action in finding Anne Hathaway," Othello commented, breaking the silence. He also started to pace the length of the room, coming so close to the hidden Caliban, that Caliban had to take a few shuffling footsteps closer to the open window. A breeze was blowing in the room and Othello froze at one point during his pacing and Caliban thought it was best for him to move out from directly in front of the window. Although he was invisible, he was still a solid presence that could block the breeze from entering the room completely. Othello had already frozen once, trying to figure out if there was something odd about the blustering wind. Othello was very observant like that.

Othello started pacing again after Caliban moved from in front of the window. He regarded Antonio while he walked. "Antonio? Do you have any suggestions on how we might find her? This human city is not terribly large, yet it is not small either. Our search may take some time and patience."

"I wished I had gotten her to fill out the form before she left!" Antonio cried in frustration, cursing himself silently for getting mad at Anne about the ring. He calmed then just a hair because everyone was staring at him because of his sudden outburst. "But what's done is done and there has to be an easy way to locate her."

"What about the one boy who lives here too?" Ariel asked. "The Will kid. Do you think that he would know Anne Hathaway?"

Antonio thought for a moment. "Perhaps, but I am not positive. I should have asked him. He visited me earlier tonight, wanting to talk to me and I turned him away."

"Even though we are not positive, it is well worth it to question Will about her," Othello said quietly. "He is a friend of yours Antonio, and I am sure that he will assist us in any way that he can."

Antonio nodded in agreement with Othello and Caliban glowered. He had a challenge now. Will had been the contact here that he had planned on using to hopefully locate Anne Hathaway and now the members of the King's Men were planning to make use of the same contact. Caliban grinned. He was always up for a good challenge. He would just have to beat them to Will.

"We should be able to reach Will because he works in the courier store nearby," Antonio said and a plan seemed to be set. Caliban was even making his way towards the exit slowly. He had heard enough and knew where would be a definite place to find Will Stratford. Caliban would go to Will's job and would wait for him to arrive for work, even if he had to wait all day. Will would have to arrive for work soon enough or perhaps Caliban could learn where he lived somehow.

But then, Antonio brightened and Caliban thought it would be wise to wait and listen some more.

"There may be another way," Antonio said, rising to his feet. All eyes were upon him. Othello had even stopped pacing.

"What is it?" Othello asked curiously.

"Anne is a high school student and tomorrow is a school day. There is only one local high school. We should be able to find her there."

"High school?" Othello echoed, with a raised eyebrow. That was a rare occasion of which he betrayed the slightest emotion.

"A place of learning for teenagers between the age of 14 and 18," Antonio was growing extremely weary with clarifications.

"We should be able to find Anne tomorrow at this place of learning, this . . . this high school?" Othello asked Antonio if he was positive with this new plan.

Antonio nodded. "Unless she misses the bus or is sick or something, she should be there."

"Bus?" Puck echoed.

Antonio rolled his eyes. "I'll explain later."

Othello thought long and hard about this new insight. Caliban stood by the exit, anxious to go but an invisible force kept him there. He had to remain to hear the finalized plan. That way he would be able to work around it and attempt to locate Anne first. It was a race although he and the King's Men had similar goals. But Caliban had other motives; motives that he did not wish to involve the King's Men if he could help it.

"Okay, then it is settled," Othello said, making the ultimate decision in the matter. Antonio was nearly old enough to be Othello's father, yet Othello had the last say-so in the plan of locating Anne Hathaway because of seniority within the rankings of the King's Men. "A few of us will go to the school and find Anne Hathaway and the rest of us will remain here just in case."

"Just in case of what?" Rosalind asked.

"In case Prospero needs to contact us," Othello was thinking outside of the framework of the plan. He was thinking about potential possibilities, trying to cover all bases. "Those who go to the school will follow Anne, not retrieve her. I want her address, as I prefer to meet with her at her home rather than out in public. She may react very strangely to what we will have to tell her and I don't want to attract too much attention at her high school. The rest of us will wait here for the scouting team to return and then we will all go together to coerce Anne into going with us back to Shakespeare. Maybe then Prospero will finally tell us why she is connected to the manuscript she had read, which in turn, is connected to the Seven Relics."

"I'll go," Puck volunteered his services graciously. "A simple reconnaissance mission. I am so on it."

Puck seemed a little too eager and Caliban, as well as the rest of the group, thought that Othello was going to tell him that he would be staying at the Merchant's Library the following day. But on the contrary, Othello surprised everyone, Caliban included, when he told Puck that he could visit Anne's school. But he was to have a partner for the mission. Caliban noticed that Rosalind pointedly looked away when Othello started trying to decide who would accompany Puck on the mission. And that was a mistake on her part.

"Rosalind," Othello called and she winced prior to facing him. "You will go to the school tomorrow with Puck. The rest of us will stay here and await your return with Anne's address."

"Yes, commander," Rosalind said softly and she had sounded as if she would rather stay at the Merchant's Library than go on an assignment with Puck.

And Caliban had heard enough. He quietly slipped through the exit and left the Merchant's Library. His first task would be performed tonight. He would find a good place to sleep for a few hours and then, his next task would be to wait for Will to come to work and hope that he could help him find Anne Hathaway. Tomorrow, Caliban would be in for a long day.

But first things first . . . .

--

The newly elected council was called to order for the second time in as many nights.

The term "elected" was to be used extremely loosely because there hadn't been really an election at all. Three members of the Dark Lady's party was chosen by the Dark Lady herself and three Critics were chosen by the Council of Nocturne to be a part of the council that led the recently created Dark Alliance. Both sides had chosen three people to represent them in reference to the Three Thrones and so they were to be called the Shadow Council.

They would be a council of six, twice in number as the Three Thrones' rulers and twice of powerful. Besides, it was definitely an advantage to having one of the Three Thrones' rulers serving on the council.

Along with King Claudius, the Dark Lady herself served, of course. She had also, although she constantly struggled with her decision, had chosen Caliban to serve on the council as well. He was too slippery, too cunning, but he was also a wonderful asset.

But Caliban was away now. He was off in the human world on a crusade to try and locate that girl whom he had tried to convince the Dark Lady that she had something to do with the disappearance of the Relics. He had told her the Prophecy of the Sycorax, although she had heard it before and didn't place too much faith in the ancient musings of the ranger swordsmen.

His replacement, however temporary, was the young and talented Hotspur. Hotspur was eager to be at this meeting in particular because the Shadow Council would be deciding the full-scaled invasion of England. Hotspur would be a part of that invasion. Along with Owen Glendower, who was actually in attendance tonight for this important occasion, Hotspur would be leading the rebels into what hopefully would be a great victory in the opening battle of the war. The battle in England will set the tone for the course of the war. If the Dark Alliance could win that battle, then the Dark Lady was confident that the King's Men nor the Sycorax or any other army in Shakespeare could stop them. She was eager to see the Critic soldiers in action but was unsure if they would be present in the invasion of England. That was one of the many things that the Shadow Council would decide tonight.

The three members of the Council who were Critics all had strange and unusual names to the Dark Lady. They were members of the Council of Nocturne, the governing body of the Critics. There were nine councilmen that comprised the Council of Nocturne and three of them were now a part of the Shadow Council as well. Their names were Miltiadi, Serafin, and Mordekaius.

By now, the Dark Lady knew the three of them fairly well. She had made acquaintances with the three Critics a while ago when she had first ventured into Critic territory to form the basis of an alliance that would conquer Shakespeare. The odd thing about Critics was that it was nearly impossible to tell one from the next because their bodies were completely armored. Each Critic's armor was similar to the next one except for a dent here or a smudge there. But the Dark Lady could tell Miltiadi, Serafin, and Mordekaius apart because they sat in the same seat each meeting. The Critic guards that stood nearby were a different story entirely.

"In about three weeks time, I feel that our troops should be ready to mobilize," the Dark Lady was saying, her voice slightly muffled like usual because she was wearing her infamous tragedy mask, a symbol she hoped would one day instill fear in the hearts of Shakespearean men and women alike whenever they saw it. It would be her legacy, her reign of terror, her Dark Mark, when she became the queen of Shakespeare. The Royal Beacons won't mean a thing when she is crowned. She is the rightful heir, not some descendant of kings, of the royal line that comes from the founder of the world of Shakespeare himself—Mr. William Shakespeare, the first king. Again, the Dark Lady cursed Caliban silently for reminding her of the stupid Prophecy of the Sycorax.

"Three weeks?" Hotspur echoed. "We should be ready in two."

The Dark Lady smiled, though no one in the room could see it. Hotspur's enthusiasm was inspiring. Even Owen Glendower was looking pretty smug and eager and that's saying a lot since he was nearly as bad as Caliban was when it came to betraying emotions.

"I like the way that you think, young Hotspur," Serafin, the oldest and the wisest—the Prospero—of the Critics spoke then. It took some getting used to the Critics using the native language of Shakespeare. The Dark Lady still didn't know what a Critic looked like since all of them were forever armored from head-to-toe at least in the presence of others—the Dark Lady had always pictured the Critics as horrible, disfigured humanoid creatures that looked like goblins or demons from the tales of old—but it was still bizarre to hear them speak Shakespearean since she knew that their language was more of a series of grunts and growls. "However, impetuosity may not be a good thing. Our armies are more than ready to attack but before we ambush the kingdom of England, we need to ensure that we are well-prepared from all angles."

"I agree with Councilman Serafin," King Claudius voiced his opinion. "We managed to seize one of the Three Thrones by cunning and stealth and it will take a lot more than that to claim England and then Scotland. Henry and Duncan are cleverer than we give them credit for."

"Your brother was a fool," Hotspur spat at Claudius at once. Claudius was unfazed by this. He knew all too well from experience of discussing politics for many years—he had served as a governor under King Hamlet's rule—that sometimes discussions were heated and it was always good to keep a level head through it all. Besides, Hotspur was not an actual council member. He was just a fill-in, a temporary member. When Caliban returned from his trip to the human world, Hotspur would go back to being a commander of traitorous English soldiers and nothing more. Sure, he might go on to becoming a decorated war hero with the impending invasion but Claudius knew that he didn't have to humor Hotspur by arguing with him or becoming angry at his insult, however true it was. "King Henry may not be as much of a fool as Hamlet was but I know things about the Golden King that we can use to our advantage to crush his kingdom in the palm of our hands!" Dramatically, Hotspur slammed a fist into the table.

"And what information would that be?" Mordekaius was anxious to know. He was a master at military strategy and any info that could help plan attacks was very note-worthy and interested him deeply.

"King Henry's no-good son, Hal, is currently estranged from the sun king," Hotspur voiced with great confidence, referring to King Henry's nickname. "As the king loves me and would rather have me as his son than his own, Hal further damages his reputation by spending much of his time with criminal scum. John Falstaff, his closest friend, is a spy for us as you all know, and he is enlisting men from the English underworld to join our cause. But if we can get Hal to stand against his father, an easy feat, I believe, then we will have an army of English criminals at our disposal. They will follow the prince anywhere, even to death while fighting on our frontlines." Hotspur concluded his speech with a grin, imagining the massacre of the criminals while he and the other councilmen reigned victorious in battle, unscathed by the rushing tide of the enemy.

"That is an option," the Dark Lady agreed. "But I don't know if Hal would stand completely against his father. From what I have heard from Falstaff, Hal is a very complex individual, always reflective, always in thought. He may be trying to get everyone around him to believe that he has denounced his claim for the throne after his father and he may surprise everyone one day by turning out to be a completely different person." She paused and looked overt at Hotspur, who sat two spots away from her at the circular table. He seemed to have lost most of his vigor and was staring down at his reflection in the polished tabletop. "I'm just speculating," the Dark Lady quickly added. She wanted more than anything for Hotspur's excitement to return. She couldn't bear to see him like this and she liked it when the fire blazed bright in his handsome eyes. "And I think it will be a good idea to try and bring Prince Harry over to our side, though. The more allies we have, the better. Hotspur? Do you think that Falstaff would be up for the task?" She asked this last question without confirmation from the rest of the council that this would be an actual course of action. Whether or not the council agreed with her was irrelevant. This was a personal decision on her part and she would carry it out with or without the council's consent. As chancellor of the Shadow Council, she could do stuff like that.

Hotspur huffed at the Dark Lady's suggestion and she wondered what she had said wrong until he spoke again. "Falstaff is a bumbling oaf!" he exclaimed. "A pawn to be used in our chess game, nothing more. I do not trust his loyalties and I would not trust him with this assignment. Leave it to me."

"But what about your rivalry?" King Claudius asked knowledgably. "You and Hal don't get along very well. Why would he listen to you?"

"Just leave it to me," Hotspur growled and repeated a little more forcibly. It was beginning to seem like he didn't like Claudius at all.

"Do you really think that this is a good idea, mistress?" Serafin spoke up. The Dark Lady was glad once again that the three Critics were sitting in assigned seats because it would have been very difficult to tell them apart because their armor was so similar. She was glad to know who was speaking whenever the Critics joined the discussion because it gave her perspective. Serafin was the oldest and wisest of the Critics who sat at the table along with the Dark Lady and the others and what he had said had made perfect sense. "Surely a son would not betray his father. It is outrageous!"

The Dark Lady grinned a hidden grin. "We have completely different cultures, Councilman," she said.

That was all Serafin needed to hear and he fell silent.

"But back to planning the invasion," the Dark Lady brought the council back on track for their meeting. "In _three_ weeks, we will be ready to mobilize—"

"Don't you mean in two weeks?" Hotspur interrupted. "I can convince Hal to join with less time."

"My dear, Hotspur," the Dark Lady began. "I admire your eagerness, I truly do, but the extra week that we wait will be crucial to our goals."

"But why wait an extra week?" Hotspur demanded. "Why wait an extra week when we will be ready in two? Hell, we are ready now. The king would never suspect our attack. He's too busy trying to keep his son out of trouble."

"Because strength is in numbers," Miltiadi spoke up for the first time in a long time; he was the quiet one. "The Three Thrones, the King's Men, the Sycorax, small militias in the free lands. They all outnumber us on a ratio of at least five to one last time we checked, and that's just the people we know that are capable of combat. If we looked at the population as a whole, then that ratio is doubled. We are devastatingly outnumbered and even though we will be taking the kingdom by surprise we cannot win the war that we will be instigating right now. We must wait and even a precious seven days of supplementary time will be a blessing for us. Every day, more and more of my people arrive in Shakespeare. Every day, more and more troops serving under Master Glendower march to join us. Every day, nomads, outcasts, and even vagabonds from the various free lands are rallying to our cause. Patience is a virtue, my son, and you must learn it well and learn it quickly or it may be your downfall one day. Why go to war in two weeks, when we can wait another week and receive many more soldiers? It would be a great risk and a huge mistake. You speak of fools, but you would be one if you marched against England in fourteen days."

Hotspur didn't know what to say then. He just scowled; stunned by the true words that Miltiadi spoke. Hotspur wasn't used to insults and jabs at his ego. All of his life he had been glorified by his father, his family, King Henry IV, and the entire nation of England. He was used to compliments and not the cold, hard truth as Miltiadi had given him. And it made him very upset. In addition to being impulsive, Hotspur was very hot-tempered, hence his nickname.

With Hotspur sulking, the Shadow Council continued to discuss tactics for the invasion of England well into the night. Glendower joined the conversation shortly thereafter adding his opinions and strategies, while providing updates on the movement of his troops and how more and more Welsh citizens were enlisting in the military and were currently training at his elaborate complex in the capital city of Wales.

Back in the human world, Anne Hathaway was stirring from sleep, her vision of the Dark Lady and the Shadow Council fading . . . .


	6. Chapter Six

**Chapter Six**

I opened my eyes the next morning to blinding sunlight. I closed my eyes again, squeezing them shut to protect them from the light that was streaming into my bedroom through my window—I had forgot to draw my curtains shut before I fell asleep last night.

Thinking suddenly about last night made me feel a mix of rushing emotions that I didn't want to feel. I felt confused and angry mostly but there was also fear there and curiosity was present too. You see, Will didn't call me last night like he said that he would. He had promised me that he would call but he had broken his promise. I was shocked too because that was the first time ever that Will had broken a promise with me. He was so reliable, so honest, so perfect, and now he had let me down.

I had waited up for him too, which made me feel worse about everything. How long into the night I had stayed up, I couldn't remember but I felt like I had only slept for a couple of hours. I felt like crap, I wasn't going to lie about that and all I wanted to do was lie there and go back to sleep.

But I had to go to school, as much as I didn't want to because Will would be there and also for the first time ever, I was unsure if I wanted to see him today. I also had to get up and make sure that Alice was up so that she could attend her classes.

I opened my eyes again and fighting against the light, I climbed out of bed and closed the curtains quickly, so quickly that my curtain rod snapped. I groaned, expecting my curtains to fall to the floor but they didn't. The curtains were caught on the rough edge where the rod had snapped. It would hold for a while and I breathed a sigh of relief. I would replace the rod later.

You know how sometimes when you first wake up, you are so out of it that you don't really realize things and when you do realize them, they come as a huge surprise? Well, that was so me that morning. I was so out of it that I didn't realize that my alarm clock was blaring.

I trotted across the room to turn it off. It was so loud that I probably woke up everyone in my apartment building. I didn't even check to see what time it was, assuming that it was around six in the morning, the normal time that I woke up during the school week. Of course, it was later than that—much later than that—but I was so out of it that . . . well, I didn't notice the time quite yet.

I shuffled out of my bedroom and down the dark hallway and into the living room. Alice was snoring lightly from the couch, still fast asleep and just exactly as I had left her last night. Apparently, my alarm clock wasn't as loud as I thought it was because Alice hadn't heard it. Perhaps I had imagined it being super loud. I don't know—I felt so strange.

I walked past Alice, permitting her to sleep for a few more minutes before I woke her up. I had to use the restroom first.

After I handled my business and washed my hands and face—my face especially so that I could wake up completely—I went to wake up my sister.

I tapped Alice on the shoulder and shook her lightly. She woke up instantly and her sleepy eyes found me. Groggily, she croaked, "Anne? Are you home now? How did applying for jobs go?"

I chose not to answer that last question quite yet. We would have more time to talk when we were getting ready for school or perhaps later after classes. The longer I could postpone telling her about yesterday, the better. Besides, I wasn't really in the mood to talk about it right now.

"Wake up, Alice," I told her softly instead. "It's morning already and you need to get up and get ready for class."

"Great," Alice groaned into the sofa cushion. "Gotta get up and face a brand new day," she added sardonically.

I smiled. "I'll make you coffee and waffles."

Alice looked up at me, nodded and stuffed her head back into the cushion. I walked into the kitchen and flipped the light on. Slowly, Alice sat up on the sofa as I started mixing the batter for the waffles. She turned the TV on. The microwave behind me displayed the time but I still didn't see what time it was.

Alice stared blankly at the television. She looked a mess. As I ironed the first batch of waffles in the waffle iron, I started the coffee maker up with fresh ground coffee.

I cooked in silence mostly, occasionally humming to myself, as I was dreading a repeat of the question that Alice had asked me earlier. And then, as I was pouring her a steaming mug of coffee, she asked me. "So, did you find a job yesterday? I am dying to know all about your trip into the city."

I didn't say anything as I walked out of the kitchen, clutching the mug of coffee. I handed Alice the mug and she sipped it slowly. I thought quickly. What was I going to tell her? Should I tell her the truth or should I lie to her? I had a plan on what I was going to say last night, but after staying up late to wait on Will's phone call that never came and after a short, but good night sleep, I had forgotten my plan. I should just tell her the truth and get it over with. Alice would find out mostly what happened anyway eventually, especially when I never went to work.

"Um, yes," I found myself saying before I could stop myself. "Yes, I did find a job."

I nearly slapped myself. Why did I say that? Alice was going to ask me a bunch of questions now that I didn't want to answer. But I didn't feel too bad though because I had told her the truth. I _had_ received a job at the Merchant's Library only I didn't know if I still retained that job because of what happened with the replica of Leah's ring.

I remembered my plan now. I had planned to tell Alice that we would talk all about it later since we would be getting dressed and scarfing down breakfast so that we could go to school. I had hoped that Alice would buy my stalling and not ask me any more questions. Then, I would go to school and afterwards, I had planned to take a trip alone back to the square to apply at the seafood restaurant I did not want to work for but would settle for a job there just so Alice and I could have a much needed extra source of income, especially since Alice had been released from one of her jobs. I planned to also apply at some other places around the square and hoped that I did not run into any strange people since I would be traveling alone. The city could be a dangerous place but it was a risk that I had been willing to take just to find a job so that I wouldn't feel like I was lying to Alice at all.

Well, that _had been _my plan but now, it was no more. I had blurted out a response to Alice's inquiry and I was left to improvise the rest of the conversation.

I returned to the kitchen. Alice sat her mug down on a coaster that was on the coffee table and she looked at me with sheer excitement. "You did?" she asked me. "Where?"

It was time for the truth. I couldn't lie to Alice. I had to answer the question truthfully. A lump was already rising in my throat, while I dumped the second batch of waffles onto a plate. I was debating if I wanted to scramble some eggs to go along with the waffles.

"The Merchant's Library," I exhaled more so than said to Alice. I tried to ignore her ecstasy but it was just overwhelming. I made an immediate decision to scramble eggs. I cracked the first one open while Alice squealed happily.

I groaned. She had hopped off of the couch and was rushing into the kitchen to embrace me.

"I can't believe it!" Alice cried, wrapping her arms around my neck, choking me in blissful happiness. "My little sister has entered the work force! I'm so happy for you! How did your interview go?"

When Alice had released me and I could breathe properly again, I shrugged while scrambling the eggs in a bowl. "All right, I guess," was all I said. I feared saying too much. I wanted to keep it short and succinct, nothing more.

Alice was beaming at me, showing off her pearly whites. "How was Mr. Antonio? Was he nice?"

I grimaced, moving over to the stove to cook the eggs. Alice missed my facial reaction to her inquiry and I was thankful.

"He was pretty nice, I guess," I told her, chiding myself silently to stop saying, "I guess".

"Did he give you a job right off the bat?" Alice wondered. "I know that he was really desperate for help."

I poured the runny eggs into a skillet of butter and waited, staring down at the liquid mixture of eggs, butter, salt, pepper, and a little cheese.

"Actually, it took a little convincing on my part," I recalled. "He almost didn't want to give me a job because I didn't have any previous work experience. But after a little pleading, he gave me a job. You are now looking at the new cashier of the Merchant's Library." I then forced a very feeble smile.

"When do you start?" Alice was bombarding me with questions and I was running out of good answers.

Then, I thought of something. My mind was formulating a new plan now and I was surprised that my brain was functioning properly despite how terrible I currently felt. I needed an excuse to return to the city square that evening and apply at the seafood restaurant so I knew what I needed to tell Alice. And if I got the job at the seafood restaurant, which I prayed that I did, then I will tell her that I decided to work there instead of the Merchant's Library. I would make up some BS about Antonio and at first, Alice would be disappointed that I was employed at a restaurant, since she had recently lost her job as a waitress, but once my new income started coming in, she wouldn't care anymore where I worked as long as money kept flowing in to our joint account regularly.

"I'm not sure," I responded somewhat truthfully to her question. "I have to return to talk to Antonio some more this evening after school and fill out some paperwork, you know, stuff like that. I'm positive that Antonio will tell me when I start tonight."

"Oh, okay," Alice said. Everything made sense, which was good. It meant that my plan was already beginning to work. "Is Melody going with you? You know I don't like for you to ride the bus into the city by yourself."

I nodded. "She is," I lied and felt horrible instantaneously. I did not like to lie to Alice, just as much as she didn't like for me to ride the bus into the city alone. "I'm not the only one who has a new job." I thought changing the subject was a good idea.

Alice's eyes widened. "Melody got a job too!" she cried, and I couldn't help but to feel sorry for Alice. She had just lost a job when Melody and I—well, at least Melody, but Alice didn't know that—had found a job. "Where is she working?"

I hesitated. Should I really tell Alice where Melody was working? Of course, I should tell her, my mind told me. It would be the truth and I needed to tell Alice as much truth as I could so it would balance out the lies somehow. At least, it sounded like the smart thing to do in my head, even if it wasn't exactly morally right.

"The Boutique," I answered. Alice looked down at the stovetop, staring blankly at the cooking eggs, which were nearly done and then we would be ready to eat breakfast. I stared down at the eggs too when I added, "I know that you don't want to do this—I mean, you have told me the same reasons why for years and they have been drilled into my head over and over again—but I think you really should consider working for the Boutique as well, Alice. You are very talented and we really could use the money right now with you losing one of your jobs. And if you worked for the Boutique, it will be two jobs but it won't feel like two jobs, if you know what I mean. You'll get to work from home and you will have more time to have an actual life. You will have more time to do homework, hang out with your friends, and even date."

Alice looked at me and rolled her eyes, telling me silently and sarcastically, "Date? Me? Yeah, right."

"You're right," Alice admitted and I couldn't believe my ears. "But I won't make any promises just yet. I'll have to really, really, _really_, think about it."

I smiled. "I expected as much and I understand completely. That is all I ask for: That you will consider it. I mean, you taught Melody everything she knows and I'm not saying that she is bad at designing clothes because she is awesome too, but if Melody was hired, I know that you will be too."

Alice didn't say much after that and I was glad. I didn't have to lie to her if she stayed silent. She was thinking about selling her clothes and designs to the Boutique, her precious clothes and designs, garments and drawings that she didn't wish to part with in that way.

Enjoying the quiet, I dumped the eggs into a clean bowl and I prepared plates for Alice and myself. Then, we started to eat our breakfast in the living room, watching television. Still, I was oblivious to what time it was. Heck, I didn't even notice that the reruns of an old sitcom that I sometimes watched in the mornings right before I went to the bus stop was already on.

"So, I guess Melody just showed off her portfolio to get the job?" Alice asked out of nowhere while we ate, our forks clinking loudly against the surface of our plates.

"Actually, she showed off that new dress that she made," I informed Alice.

"And she got the job just like that?"

I nodded. "Yep. I guess that the Boutique is just as desperate for help as Antonio was."

Brrriiinngg!

The telephone rang suddenly, startling me because I was sitting right beside it. I reached over to grab the phone and checked the caller ID.

"Speaking of Melody . . . ." I said, pressing the talk button on the phone. "Hello?"

"Hey, Anne, how's it going?" Melody asked, her voice filled with static, indicating that she was talking to me on her cell phone. Our cordless phone did not like cell phones for some reason.

"Nothing. Just eating breakfast with Alice," I told her. "What's up?"

"You two are just now eating breakfast?" Melody confused me with her question. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

Hmm. I thought for a moment. Come to think of it, I really didn't know what time it was and I realized that for the first time. It was like the whole light bulb, epiphany, mumbo jumbo.

"No, I don't," I admitted. "What time is it?"

I glanced at the only clock in the living room, the moment that Melody told me what time it was. "It's seven-thirty," she said.

I gasped. I couldn't believe it. I had fifteen minutes to get to the bus stop or I was going to miss the bus.

"Uh, Mel, no offense, but I, uh, I gotta go get ready fast," I said, panicking. "I'll meet you at the bus stop in a bit."

"But that's what I was calling you for," Melody said, talking fast so that I could hear what she had to tell me before I hung up the phone. "I am not going to ride the bus today. Mother is taking me to school. I have to make up that quiz in Physics that I missed last week."

"Oh, okay, cool," I said. "See ya at school."

I hung up the phone and threw it on the sofa next to Alice. She looked up and saw my panic-stricken face and she looked concerned.

"What?" Alice wondered.

"We need to hurry up and get dress," I said, speaking so fast that my words were stumbling over each other in a rush to explode out of my mouth. "It's already seven-thirty."

Alice's face mirrored mine for a split-second before she took a final bite of her waffles and hopped up from the sofa. She raced to her bedroom without another word.

I didn't even return to my food. I wouldn't be able to finish now. And what a pity too. For a quick meal, it had tasted really well. I had done a decent job cooking that morning.

I trotted down the hallway and to my room. As fast as I could and trying not to pause every few seconds to glance at my alarm clock to see what time it was, I found an outfit in my closet that didn't need to be ironed at all. It was my black tunic vest and I threw it on over a plain white v-neck t-shirt and a pair of dark blue jeans.

My hair was a mess from pulling the shirt on over my head and I brushed it in two swift strokes. There was no time for makeup. I wouldn't look bad without it but I wouldn't look quite as good either. But I didn't really care. My makeup-free face would just be a reflection of how I felt on the inside today.

I thought about Will again and it slowed me up considerably. I was still dumbstruck by the fact that he didn't call me at all last night when he had promised me that he would. I was hurt, experiencing a type of heartache that I had never felt before. Prior to Will, I had never been in a serious relationship with a guy. I had never had a boyfriend tell me that he would call me and then didn't. I had never felt this way about a boy at all. I was new to the thing called love. I was inexperienced, which made me wonder if love was supposed to hurt like this.

I paused and stared at the wall. I didn't want to be mad at Will but I couldn't help the anger that was present within me. Sure, I was concerned about him as well. Since his behavior last night was unorthodox, I also had plaguing thoughts that told me that perhaps something had happened to Will that prevented him from calling. I just hoped that it wasn't something bad.

I didn't know how long I stood there. It was only a few minutes but it had felt like much more. Alice was calling me though, whisking me away from my thoughts about Will.

I listened.

"Anne?" Alice called again. "You need to leave. Your bus will be here any second."

I moved again and snatched up my backpack, hoping that my homework and all of the schoolbooks that I would need for classes today were inside of it. The way my day was going today, I wouldn't be surprised if I left all of my homework at home.

I ran down the hallway and past Alice, who was already dressed as well. She was picking up the plates of half-eaten food that we had left in the living room. She looked up at me as I dashed into the room.

"You ready, Anne?"

"Not really but it'll have to do for today," I said. "See ya later, Alice."

"Bye, Anne. Have a good day at school."

I left the apartment and ran through the building and down the stairs, praying that the school bus hadn't arrived yet.

I ran outside and behold the bus was there. I paused for a moment, briefly stunned, as the doors closed behind the last person to climb onto the bus. Then, its engine started rumbling as it pulled away from the curb. Seeing this motivated me to move again.

"Wait!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, my voice not nearly as loud as the thunderous engine of the bus. I ran after the bus, which was gaining speed as it flowed back into the morning traffic. I moved as fast as my feet would carry me, but it was no use. I was still too slow and the bus was gone.

I returned to my apartment with my head hung low. Alice, who was about to leave for class herself, saw me return and she knew that I had missed the bus.

"We can ride our mopeds together," Alice suggested at once. "I'll ride with you to school and then, I'll go to class."

I shook my head, feeling crestfallen. Today was off to a very bad start and I was beginning to have thoughts about not wanting to go to school today at all, fearing a disaster.

"That's okay," I told Alice. "I don't want you to be late for class because of me. I think . . . Is it okay if I stayed home from school today? I don't have a test or anything and I really don't feel like going."

"Are you sick?" Alice asked with concern.

"No, I'm just out of it," I told her. "I didn't sleep well last night."

Alice considered it for a moment. She was trying to figure out if she wanted to be a good older sister and allow me to stay home when I wasn't sick or if she wanted to be the mean older sister who was more like a strict mother instead of a sibling who wouldn't let me stay home from school unless I was puking or hacking up my lungs.

Then, Alice nodded. She was being the good older sister and I was appreciative. "You can stay home today, only if you promise to visit the Merchant's Library as soon as possible so you don't have to be out later after dark."

"Okay," I promised her. It was a fair enough deal, I believed. I wondered what Will would think when I wasn't at school today. He would probably think that I was avoiding him, which would serve him right for breaking his promise to me. I had a feeling that I would hold that against him for a while.

"And when I get home tonight, we can have another sister bonding night," Alice suggested with a smile. "We can rent a movie or something. What do you say to that?"

"That will be fun," I told her, smiling.

"All right, then, well I gotta get to class," Alice told me, picking up her schoolbag, which was resting on the floor by the front door. "Don't have too much fun today." She smiled.

"I won't," I assured her. "Bye."

Alice left and I closed the door and locked it behind her. Then, I spun around and faced the empty living room. I was staying home from school, which was a relief and brought some comfort to me in the face of so many problems of adversity. I had the apartment to myself for most of the day and so I would have peace from Alice's beleaguering questions. I had a mission to do—find a job to replace the one that I had won and lost in record-breaking time—but I had plenty of time. There was no rush, as long as I was home before Alice returned so that we could officially begin our sister hangout later that evening.

Later, when I was facing immediate danger, I would regret not giving Alice a better farewell. I had expected to see her when she came home, but now I know that I should not take things like that for granted. You never know what might happen throughout the twenty-four hours of the day. Sometimes, things just refused to go according to plan.

I walked into the kitchen. There were a couple of waffles left over—Alice had placed them in a Rubbermaid plasticware and stuck them in the fridge during that brief amount of time that I was running through the apartment building and after the school bus that I had missed. I ate them slowly but greedily, enjoying the meal that I didn't get the chance to finish earlier. I quickly gulped down a tall glass of milk afterwards and then, I went to take a shower and changeed into fresh and ironed attire—my pewter and burgundy striped colored jersey cardigan and a pair of black skinny jeans.

I took my time in the shower and getting dressed. I tried not to think about Will too much but of course, I thought about him even more. Mostly, I thought about what Will's reaction would be when he saw that I wasn't in class and that my perfect attendance so far this semester was ruined. I imagined that he would be shocked. But how else would he feel? Would he feel hurt like I did or would he be confused? I expected that he would figure out some way or concoct some grand scheme to get out of one of his classes to try and call me at the apartment to make up for the call that he did not make last night. I had to make sure that I was long gone by then, wasting the day away in the city. Lunch would be the perfect opportunity and knowing Will really well—sometimes even better than myself—I assumed that he would seize a part of the thirty minute eating period to call me. But I would make sure that I would be at least on the city bus by then because frankly, I decided that I did not want to talk to him right now.

I knew that I shouldn't act that way—I _wanted _to not act that way—but I couldn't help the anger. I was so angry that I washed my hair furiously in the shower, unaware for a while of what I was doing. This had been Will's first offense but it had hurt so bad that it felt like it was his twentieth or his fiftieth. I guess being let down for the first time brought tons of pain, especially if it was someone who you never thought would let you down in the first place.

Will had always seemed so perfect, from his physical appearance to his personality, but now I knew that no one is perfect, not even Will. I think that was why I felt so bad, was that I had believed that Will was without flaws and who could blame me for thinking that when he had been so flawless for over a year now? If Will hadn't been perfect for a year then it wouldn't have hurt as much. I hoped that the next time would be better, easier, because frankly, I didn't know what to do next.

I knew that we wouldn't break up or anything like that over this incident. Will and I was too strong for that, too compatible. One bad situation was not grounds for breaking up. When I was ready, we would talk about it. Will will apologize in his lovely voice. We would hug and we would kiss and everything would hopefully go back to being normal and perfect—or I should say as perfect as it should be.

After I showered and was well groomed, I watched some television. It was nearly lunchtime so nothing was on the tube except for talk shows and soap operas. Neither one of them held my attention but luckily I found an old and interesting movie on HBO. I couldn't remember what it was called but it was well done for a movie from the black and white era.

At a quarter to noon, I left the apartment and headed for the nearest public bus stop. It was truly a beautiful day. The sky was clear and an alluring shade of blue that reminded me of the waters around the Bahamas that I had seen online. There were no clouds in the sky, just sky itself and the golden sun that burned so bright, it even had a tint of blue in its center.

I sat at the bus stop alone for only about ten minutes. The bus came and I boarded it, sitting in the very front seat. The bus driver was very friendly and asked me questions about school. At first, he had thought that I was a college student, which I took as a compliment for looking and acting so mature for my age, because I wasn't at school at the moment. I thanked him and told him that I was still in high school and I wasn't at school because I was going in the city to find a job to help my sister and me financially.

The bus driver didn't ask any questions about my financial problems and I was glad because I didn't want anymore awkward questions. I had had enough for one day.

I arrived in the square fifteen minutes later and said goodbye to the nice bus driver. Many people exited the bus behind me, going into the square to eat lunch during his or her break from work. Not wasting anytime, I went straight to the seafood restaurant.

I walked into the restaurant and a young female greeter met me as soon as I stepped into lobby. She smiled at me, gave me the customary greeting and asked how many would be in my party. I told her politely that I wasn't eating lunch and she stopped herself from picking up a stack of menus from the nearby podium.

"Are you guys still hiring?" I questioned her, as she looked at me, wondering what I was doing there if I wasn't going to eat lunch.

The greeter nodded. "Yes, we are." She smiled again and gave me a look over. She was checking to see if I was worthy enough to apply for a job there going by a first impression. She was one of those girls who I probably wouldn't like at school, except she was older than me by at least a few years and wouldn't attend school with me anyway. She looked to be around Alice's age. "Would you like to apply?"

I nodded. "Yes, I would, please."

"All right, follow me."

The greeter girl led me through the lobby and between a couple of occupied tables. The restaurant was packed and seemed to be very popular during lunchtime. I wondered if the restaurant would be as crowded during dinner or on the weekends, hours that I would be able to work. Tips would become my main source of income if I got a job here and I wanted my shifts to be somewhat busy so I could make decent money.

There were two things that I liked about the restaurant as I followed the greeter. Although, the place reeked of fish, the interior was decorated nicely and gave me the impression that I was on the deck of a cruise ship. The floor was hardwood but smoothly polished and glazed to give the effect that there was water on the deck that had splashed up from an imaginary sea below. The walls were decorated with fishnets, pictures of fishermen and their prized catches, as well as those big, round portholes.

The second thing I liked about the restaurant was that it was really colorful. The walls were splashed with a bright pink paint here and orange paint there. Yellow and green were thrown in sometimes, along with a pale blue. The shirts of the waiters and waitresses were colorful as well. They wore island shirts of various colors that were similar to the colors of the walls. The girls' shirts had flowers on them, while the guys' had fish on them.

The greeter led me to a backroom, a break room of sorts, where the manager on duty was enjoying a healthy lunch. I laughed on the inside, careful not to laugh aloud and look like an idiot before I even talked to the shift manager. I was laughing internally because Alice was right—people who worked at restaurants never ate the food that the restaurant served during their lunch breaks. I had always thought of it as an amusing joke and seeing the manager eat the food that she brought from home brought back old memories and made me wanna giggle.

I felt bad about interrupting the manager's lunch but she was overly happy to talk to me about applying for a job after the greeter girl told her the purpose of my visit. The greeter left us alone and the manager talked to me a bit on a personal level, asking me questions about myself and my work experience—I pointed out then that my sister had been a waitress and that I had learned some things from her since I had no work experience—before she had me fill out an application. After I wrote a novel, it seemed—I didn't know that job applications at restaurants could be so complex; I mean, come on, why did they have to ask me questions about how I would handle situations with customers and co-workers when I didn't have the job yet?—the manager told me that she would get my application to her general manager who would contact me in a few days to set up an interview.

A few days? I didn't have a few days. I needed a job now. But of course, I couldn't say that to her but I could still be secretly peeved about it.

The manager walked me back out into the lobby asking me if I had any questions. I told her no because I was quietly fuming. She was supposed to walk me to the door but she was called to speak to an elderly customer who wanted to compliment her server and praise the restaurant. The manager made sure I heard that clearly as though it would affect my decision to work there. Little di she know that I would be willing to there even if the restaurant was the worst place to work ever because I was that desperate.

I was left to find my own way out alone, which wasn't difficult. I could see the exit the moment that we had emerged out of the hallway leading to the break room.

As I was passing between tables, weaving around customers and servers, a strange girl caught my eye and made me pause for a moment.

At first glance, she appeared to be glowing and when I looked at her, I could see that she _was _really glowing. She simply glowed with a pale light, almost like a ghost or something, and as I stared at her, she looked at me and I quickly looked away.

When I figured it was safe to look again, I did. The girl was now looking at her companion, a tall, regal-looking black man who looked to be around thirty-something years old. I thought that this was strange because the girl looked so young, much younger than the man she was with, and perhaps she was even younger than me.

I stared at her again and I could hear snippets of their conversation, although I wasn't paying much attention to what they were saying. I realized then that it had to be a trick of the light because no one else was staring at the girl like I was gaping at her. She and her companion were sitting at a table near a large porthole window where the sun was shining brightly into the restaurant. That's what it was, a trick of the light.

The girl looked at me again and I quickly looked away a second time. She was probably confused now, wondering why I was still standing in the same spot that I had been standing in a few seconds earlier. I knew that I should have left then but I couldn't move. I wanted to look at her again. My eyes were drawn to her and I wanted to be sure that they weren't deceiving me. I had to be positive that the sunlight was causing her skin to glow like that.

I took a deep breath and looked again. The girl was staring right at me! I turned and walked away. It was perfect timing too because the man's booming voice carried across two tables to me and he said," Antonio will be joining us shortly once he closes the store down for lunch."

I looked back over my shoulder and saw that several people around them were now staring at the girl and the man like I had been staring earlier. One of them even muttered something about those new bluetooth headsets.

I faced forward again and my mind asked myself one question. Antonio? Did these people know Antonio from the Merchant's Library? Surely they were referring to the same person, which meant that I had to get out of there as quickly as I could. I did not want to come face-to-face with Antonio right now. All morning, I had debated whether or not I wanted to visit Antonio and talk to him about yesterday. I wanted to know if I still had a job at the Merchant's Library, but at the same time, I was too scared to see him after what happened yesterday. I planned to give it a few days, especially if I couldn't find another job in that time period, before I would finally buck up the courage to go to him to talk about the job that he had given me but was unsure if he had retracted it.

I stepped out of the seafood restaurant and into the beautiful afternoon. Antonio was nowhere in sight and I moved away from the entrance of the restaurant in case he showed up soon. I still had a few hours ahead of me and no job.

Not wanting to go home quite yet and wanting to make sure that I got my two dollars worth for the bus fare that I paid to get downtown, I headed across the square to apply at other restaurants in the area.

My cell phone started vibrating madly in my pocket. Wondering whom it could be but already starting to guess who it was, I retrieved the phone and looked at the display screen. It was Will, of course. Oh, so now he wanted to call and talk to me but he was just a little too late, over twelve hours and a night of insomnia, too late.

I silenced my phone and stuffed it back into my pocket, ignoring him. It hurt sure but I needed to stay strong.

Besides, he deserved it and if he was lucky, I just might call him back when I knew he would be at work after school.

But that was only if he was lucky.

--

Rosalind couldn't believe it. Despite her initial fear and uncertainty, she had been rendered speechless after Othello had assigned her the first field assignment that she had ever been assigned. She was in awe that she was on a mission without a superior officer of the King's Men with her. This was an historic event, at least to Rosalind herself, because no one else would note it or remember it, but she was the first woman ever to embark on a mission for the King's Men. Rosalind was proud of herself and she was hoping that this was the first step in achieving her goals of having more women join the King's Men and go on missions like the one that she was on.

The current mission wasn't only just perks, however. Rosalind was on a mission with Puck, who had to be the most annoying fairy to ever exist. He talked constantly and was overly excited about everything and by the end of it all, Rosalind had a splitting headache and she wanted to murder Puck with her bare hands. Being on a mission with him was almost not even worth it.

"Ooooh!" Puck cried suddenly and Rosalind would have slapped her own head in frustration if it weren't already pounding like a bass drum.

"What?" Rosalind cried, irritation showing clear in her voice. "What is it now, Puck? Are you going to tell me how pretty you think those human girls are here again because you've already mentioned that about ten times now."

Puck shrugged innocently. "Well, Shakespearean girls, like yourself, are cute, but the girls here are just fascinating. The way they dress, the way they walk . . . Amazing!"

Rosalind rolled her eyes. "You are ridiculous, Puck," she told him. "And a hypocrite. I thought you said that you weren't into human girls at all, even Shakespearean girls? I thought you only had eyes for other fairies?"

Puck was appalled. "I never said anything like that!" he defended himself. "I love all women!"

"Yes, you have!" Rosalind countered.

"When did I say that?" Puck questioned her. "I don't recall ever saying something like that."

"It was implied," Rosalind reminded him. "That night when we went to the palace to tell Prospero about the Royal Beacons. The dark-haired fairy girl had asked you if you had joined the King's Men for "human companionship" and you said that such a thing was revolting."

Puck remembered saying that then and he grinned. "I lied," he admitted. "I lie a lot. You should know that by now, Rosalind."

"Oh believe you me, I do know that," Rosalind said.

They were crouched behind a row of hedges that traced a perimeter around the high school's main parking lot. Based off of Antonio's directions, they had found the local high school easily enough and now they were waiting for school to be dismissed. They had a clear view of the main parking lot and the main entrance into the school. Antonio had told them that when a bell rung—Puck and Rosalind didn't know the significance of a ringing bell but they complied with Antonio's instructions without any comments—all of the students would pour quickly out of the school. They would either head to the left of the parking lot where smaller, compact metal boxes called cars were parked—Antonio had showed them pictures of several cars at this point in their pre-mission briefing and Rosalind had rolled her eyes feeling that Antonio was treating her and Puck like small children who were reading from picture books—or to the right of the parking lot where several larger, yellow boxes, called school buses, were parked. Antonio had also showed them pictures of school buses and Rosalind recalled yawning out of boredom.

When the bell rung, Anne Hathaway would be one of the hundreds of students emerging from the school building. Puck and Rosalind both had very good memories and they knew what Anne looked like from a picture that Othello had conjured with a strange and complicated spell by touching the Shakespearean manuscript that Anne had read from before during her visit to the Merchant's Library. Their job, as stated the night before and as a reminder to them this morning before they left Antonio's place of residence, was to locate Anne and follow her bus or car to her apartment. Puck would be taking to the skies and using a cloaking spell so that he wasn't discovered by human onlookers who happened to be gazing up at the afternoon sky the moment that he flew by overhead. That part of the mission would be a little more difficult for Rosalind but she was up to the task. She would have to figure out a way to board the school bus and ride along with Anne and her schoolmates, while pretending to be a new student if anyone asked her any questions about herself. If Anne drove a car then Rosalind didn't know what she was going to do and Puck would be on his own then. Antonio didn't think that Anne drove a car to school from what she had told him about the financial trouble that her and her sister was in, but still though, Rosalind was not sure of this.

As part of her charade, Rosalind was dressed in an outfit that Antonio had told her that human girls who were high school aged wore. She was dressed in a short skirt, high-heeled shoes that made her stumble a lot while walking, and a very revealing blouse that caused her to feel really uncomfortable, especially around Puck, who was eyeing random female students almost greedily when they had walked outside on campus during the last half an hour or so. But Rosalind wasn't worried about Puck too much. He knew that she would punch his lights out if he even stared at her unbuttoned shirt for more than a millisecond.

They were in position. When the students emerged, they would move closer and become one with the crowd, while splitting up to seek out Anne Hathaway. The moment that one of them had found her, that person would alert the other with some sort of distraction or commotion. Puck had jokingly promised Rosalind a fireworks display if he was the one who found Anne in the throng of students, who would be anxious to get home after a long day of classes.

Now, all they had to do was wait. Puck kept things interesting, at least, by continuing their conversation.

"Rosalind, my friend," he began again and Rosalind held her breath. The silence had been too good to be true after she had called him out about how he felt about human girls. "When I had said 'oooh' earlier, I wasn't talking about girls, I was talking about the buses. They are so huge, far larger than I would have imagined from viewing the photographs that Antonio had shown us."

Rosalind noticed then that several school buses—humongous yellow boxes powered by a motor that thrummed lightly while the bus sat idling in the parking lot—had arrived. There were about a dozen in all so far and Rosalind knew that the time for action was drawing nearer.

"School is about to be dismissed," Rosalind said to Puck. "Are you ready?"

"Always," came his response.

And they continued to wait, both of them a little bit on edge. Time was creeping along slowly, which was something that Rosalind did not like about the human world. In Shakespeare, time seemed to move along very quickly. Rosalind was a very fast-paced person and she hated sitting around and waiting for something to happen. She didn't like the action coming to her. Instead, she liked seeking the action.

A thought occurred to Rosalind, amidst the silence that had surrounded her and Puck suddenly. She remembered the conversation that her and her fellow soldiers had last night after they had first arrived at the Merchant's Library. It was Antonio who had first introduced the thought to her mind when he had asked Othello if Anne could be the descendant of kings, which was all a part of the Sycorax Prophecy that she didn't put much stock in. But what if Anne was connected to the world of Shakespeare in a way that didn't only pertain to the disappearance of the Seven Relics? What if she was connected to someone from the world of Shakespeare? Could that mean then that she was an actual descendant of kings and that the Prophecy of the Sycorax was true?

Rosalind looked over at Puck. "Hey, Puck? Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," he said.

"You believe in the Prophecy of the Sycorax, don't you?"

Puck nodded. "Of course, I do. You know that. We've been through this before after the Royal Beacons were lit, remember?"

Rosalind nodded. "Yes, I remember that night well," she said, recalling how annoying Puck had been that night playing his flute and giving her a massive headache. They had talked about the prophecy briefly and Puck had jokingly called Rosalind a skeptic, even though she had sworn up and down that she believed in the Prophecy of the Sycorax, or at least perhaps most of it. The part she was thinking about now was the whole descendant of kings bit and she wanted to hear Puck's opinion about it.

"Why are you thinking about the prophecy when you don't believe in it?" Puck was curious to know.

"I've told you that I _do_ believe in the prophecy," Rosalind corrected him. "At any rate, what Antonio said last night had me thinking. I know that Othello does not think that Anne could possibly be the one that the prophecy speaks of, but what if she is? I mean, she is apparently connected to the Seven Relics, which disappeared the moment that the Royal Beacons were lit and that strange crown thing appeared in the night sky. Don't you feel that might be more than just a coincidence? Could Anne be the descendant of kings?"

To Rosalind's surprise, Puck was shaking his head and she awaited his response, trying to figure out why he thought that she was wrong in her thoughts just like Antonio had been wrong when Othello had corrected him.

"No, she can't be," Puck said knowledgably and Rosalind would accept that for now because he knew more about the prophecy than she did. "It is possible for her to be related somehow to a person of Shakespearean heritage but she cannot be the one that the prophecy speaks of. The prophecy calls for a king and since Anne is not a male, she cannot be the ruler we have been waiting on for centuries."

That settled Rosalind's thoughts then. Puck was right and she knew that much about the Prophecy of the Sycorax to be aware that it spoke of a male and not a female. Rosalind had temporarily forgotten that clause, in her blindness of hoping against hope that a woman could come to power in a society that was dominated by men. But Anne could never be the rightful ruler of Shakespeare. Rosalind would have to settle with the fact that a man would lead Shakespeare to greatness once again. But the Seven Relics were a different story. Anne will play a part in retrieving the Seven Relics and that comforting thought made Rosalind feel good.

Then, the moment of action had finally come. The school bells sounded and Puck was already moving out of their hiding spot.

Rosalind was confused for a moment. When had all of those other school buses arrived? Rosalind hadn't even noticed. She had been busy thinking about Anne and the Relics that time had finally sped up for her. And why was Puck leaving?

"Wait!" Rosalind hissed at her anxious companion. "Wait a second! Puck?!"

But Puck was already out in the opening and was heading across the parking lot towards the entrance. Rosalind stood up completely and pulled her skirt down. Adjusting her shirt as well, she stumbled after Puck, barely able to walk in those bizarre shoes.

Students spilled out of the double doors of the exit not too soon thereafter. Puck moved closer to the buses and yelled back at Rosalind over his shoulder. "I'll take the buses!"

"I guess that leaves me the cars," Rosalind muttered, hobbling towards the smaller vehicles.

Since she couldn't walk too well in the high-heeled shoes, Rosalind was late reaching the left half of the parking lot. Students were already climbing into their cars. Some were alone, while others were with friends. Rosalind peered through the windshield of those vehicles and she couldn't see Anne anywhere among them. She turned away and focused on a cluster of students who were walking towards her.

Looking past the huddle of teenagers, Rosalind had lost sight of Puck already. As a fairy, he was shorter than most of the kids, especially the boys, so he blended in with the crowd perfectly. Rosalind only hoped that he remembered to retract his wings. It would be mass hysteria if any of the kids saw his fairy wings.

Nearby laughter brought Rosalind back to staring at the oncoming students. Rosalind focused on their faces again and she didn't see Anne Hathaway among them. She stumbled slightly as she moved towards them and the group of kids laughed again. Some even pointed. Rosalind realized then that they were laughing at her. That angered her. She wasn't an expert at walking in high-heeled shoes but that gave them no right to mock her.

The girl who had pointed at her continued to laugh as she asked Rosalind, "Are you new here? If you are, then you need to learn how to walk properly or you won't get far."

Rosalind started to say something but she kept her anger in check. The girl wasn't worth cursing or hexing and besides; Rosalind was a trained warrior for the King's Men. She could easily rip off the girl's head without much effort and that gave her a lot of satisfaction, especially when she pictured her hands grabbing the girl's head and tugging at it fiercely . . . .

Rosalind smiled at them and stopped walking, allowing the group of evil teenagers to pass.

"That was harsh, Natalie," another girl told the one who had addressed Rosalind. At first, Rosalind thought that she was reprimanding her friend, but then Rosalind saw that the girl was laughing just as hard as Natalie was, along with the rest of her comrades.

Natalie and her entourage disappeared into their various cars and Rosalind went back to her task at hand, able to concentrate now that the distractions had passed. She stood there for ten or fifteen minutes, observing all of the students that went by. Some of them paid her no attention as they were engaged in their own conversation with friends or on small rectangular shaped devices that they held up to their face. Rosalind didn't know what those talking contraptions were called but she wanted one.

Some of the passing students noticed her staring intently into their faces and it made each of them uncomfortable. Since none of them knew Rosalind, most of them weren't bold enough to comment, and they just fed her looks of disgust. But of course, there were a few of them who said something to Rosalind like Natalie did, disregarding the fact that Rosalind was a stranger to them.

Rosalind ignored the snide remarks, smiling big each time as she had done with Natalie. She continued to seek out Anne's face among the students but Anne was not there. As the crowd of the people heading for cars started to thin considerably, Rosalind was beginning to get worried that they would never find Anne. She was hoping that Puck would have better luck than she was having.

And then, there was an explosion that sounded like a bomb had gone off in the area that surrounded the parked buses. Rosalind was immediately in alert mode and she looked over and up to see a brilliant light show of red and green sparks showering the afternoon sky. Puck hadn't lied when he had said that he was going to set off fireworks to tell Rosalind that he had found Anne.

Excited, Rosalind move as quickly as she could across the paved parking lot. She tripped a few times but it was irrelevant. Puck had found Anne and now Rosalind would have to board the bus she was on, stay close to her during the ride, and learn of her address so that her and the others could tell her about her destiny later.

Rosalind gulped and swallowed. Her throat was suddenly dry as she thought about the impending bus ride. Rosalind had never ridden inside such a vehicle before—coming from Shakespeare, she had only traveled on horseback or by ship. She realized that today would be her first bus ride ever and even though she wasn't scared of many things, she was apprehensive about the ride, nervous about what would occur along the way. Rosalind pictured the bus colliding with a car and the thought terrified her silly.

But Rosalind forced away those images and joined the gathering around the school buses. There was a huge commotion. Students were looking around trying to figure out who had set off the mini exhibit of fireworks, but no one could figure out that it had been Puck, who Rosalind imagined was grinning right about now although she couldn't spot his short stature yet.

The male students were cheering, talking about how fascinating the fireworks had been and that whoever was brave enough to do something like that was the coolest dude at school, while most of the female students were either dashing for their particular bus or commenting on how immature one of the guys were for setting off fireworks at school.

Adults had joined the assembly now and Rosalind assumed that they were the scholars, or teachers as Antonio had called them last night. The teachers shooed the students away and hurried them along to their buses. A couple of them were questioning students asking who was the culprit. Again, no one seemed to know who had done it, which made Rosalind happy. The last thing they needed was for Puck to get into trouble with the humans for a bit of mischief and mayhem.

Rosalind quickly found Puck in front of one of the buses on the far end after ducking around a huddle of students and teachers. He was laughing heartily.

"Rosalind? Did you see that?" he asked her the moment that he saw her. "My spectacle was fabulous and the best thing about it is that the humans don't have a clue that I did it! I could definitely live here. I could get used to causing trouble without being reprimanded for it. This is great!"

But Rosalind didn't care about the stupid fireworks no matter how riled up Puck was about it. All she was concerned with was the reason why Puck had created fireworks out of magic in the first place. He had located Anne and that was what made Rosalind excited.

"Where's Anne?" Rosalind asked in a hurry. "Did you find her? Is she on the bus?"

"Huh, what?" Puck asked.

"Anne?" Rosalind repeated. "Did you find her?"

"No," Puck said and Rosalind's excitement meter went dead instantly.

Rosalind was so furious that she could have strangled Puck right then and there in front of everyone. "Well then, why did you summon me over here with an exploding charm?" she shrieked in outrage.

"No reason," Puck said with a grin. "I promised you fireworks, didn't I?"

Rosalind shook with fury. "You place our mission in jeopardy all because you promised me fireworks? Just wait until I tell Othello what you've done. You'll be finished in the King's Men, I can assure you, for blowing this mission. You better hope that we manage to find Anne now or you're going to be in deep—"

Rosalind stopped talking suddenly because she noticed that Puck was no longer paying her any attention. He was walking towards a girl who Rosalind had to admit was pretty stylish for a girl who wasn't Shakespearean. She wore a royal blue cowl neck pointelle knit dress with black ribbed tights. When Rosalind saw this, she was even more upset with Puck. She couldn't believe that he was going to flirt with a human girl when they had work to do. And their work was cut out for them now because it was almost impossible to find Anne at that point, since most of the students were already gone in their cars or sitting on the buses. Not only that, but a few of the teachers were approaching, forcing the stragglers who remained, Rosalind and Puck included, to get on the buses so that they could depart from the school. Rosalind would have to formulate a quick plan if the teachers reached them before they managed to find Anne. She was already wondering what she was going to exactly tell Othello and the others when they returned to the Merchant's Library empty handed. She felt kind of bad now that she was no longer yelling at Puck about telling Othello what he did. Puck seemed to have that effect on many people and was always able to wheedle his way out of sticky situations with a sort of charm that gave off the impression of naivety although he knew exactly what he was doing and what he had gotten himself into before he was knee deep in hot water.

"Hello, excuse me," Puck was saying to the girl who was dressed in the chic outfit. Rosalind looked at her face and supposed that for a human girl she was pretty as well. She had dark brown hair and green, almost hazel eyes.

"What's up?" The girl halted and asked Puck. She carried a silky bag-like object that matched her shirt and had another bag strapped to her back somehow like a quiver. Rosalind wondered what these items were called.

"The sky," Puck replied. "That's what's up. Or sometimes fairies when we fly . . . ." And his voice trailed off.

The girl stared at him and Rosalind moved towards them to rescue Puck. Surely, the girl thought that he was strange.

"You're funny," she chuckled halfheartedly and Rosalind could sense some sarcasm there. "How can I help you?" The girl rephrased her question. "I've never seen you around here before, so I assume that you may need help finding your bus."

"You can help me by telling me where Anne Hathaway is and which bus she is on," Puck told the girl before Rosalind could get close enough to steal the conversation away from him.

The girl narrowed her eyes. "Anne? You know Anne?"

"Yes, we do," Rosalind stepped into the conversation before Puck had the chance to say something stupid that would ruin everything like she believed that he would. He had done enough damage already on the mission and now it was her turn to do a little damage control. "Do you know her?"

"I'm her best friend," the girl announced proudly, before she was really suspicious. "Why are you trying to find Anne?"

"We're uh, family of hers," Rosalind said the first thing that came to mind. "And it is very important that we find her."

"Well, you won't find her here," the girl informed Rosalind and Puck.

"Why not?" Puck questioned her.

"She didn't come to school today," the girl said. "Do you know what is going on? It is not like Anne to miss school. I think she has had perfect attendance so far this semester or something like that."

"She didn't come to school today?" Rosalind repeated in a choked whisper. "How are we going to find her now?"

"Can you tell me where she stays?" Puck asked the girl desperately. He and Rosalind were running out of other options and he was thinking about how much trouble he would be in later when Rosalind told Othello about the fireworks. But then again, Puck now had a scheme to escape trouble once more. Anne didn't come to school anyways, so Othello couldn't be too upset about him setting off a false alarm because Anne wasn't there anyways. Yeah, that would be his excuse and he hoped that Othello would buy it, especially if the girl told him and Rosalind where Anne stayed as he was praying for a miracle now. He and the others still had a backup plan if this one didn't work but Puck thought it would look better for him, as well as Rosalind, but mostly himself, if they returned successfully on their very first mission without a superior officer like Othello completely running the show.

The girl shook her head much to the dismay of Puck and Rosalind. "I'm sorry but I can't do that," she said. "You guys understand, right? I mean, I have no proof that you are related to Anne and so I can't tell you where she lives. If you were really her family, you would have access to such information anyways."

And she turned to board the bus. Rosalind and Puck let her go, staring after her in disbelief. That was it then. They had failed their mission but it wasn't their fault. Othello would understand that. Anne didn't come to school today, a variable that they hadn't been counting on. If she had come to school then they might would have had a chance to find her if Puck hadn't ruined it with his hi-jinks. The mission had been a failure before it had even began and even though Othello was strict, he wasn't stupid. He would recognize this and Puck and Rosalind would be praised for even trying when all was lost beforehand.

Puck regarded Rosalind. "Well, what are we going to do now?"

Rosalind shrugged. "I have no idea."

"Hey you two!" someone suddenly cried out from behind Rosalind and Puck. The two of them turned to see one of the teachers racing their way. "You two better get on the bus now before you are left behind!"

"Actually," Rosalind said, allowing her instincts to guide her instead of thinking her words through carefully. "I, uh, I forgot something in my last class." She grabbed Puck's hand. "Come on, Robin," she commanded loud enough for the teacher to hear her. Puck squeezed her hand a little too tightly at the mention of his given name. "Let's go and find my uh, book."

They started walking towards the school building and surprisingly and fortunately, the teacher didn't stop them. She did tell them that they would need to go to the office immediately after they had retrieved what Rosalind had left behind so that they could call their parents or guardians to come and pick them up since the buses would be leaving them at the school. Puck chuckled because the teacher actually believed him and Rosalind to be actual students.

As they neared the main entrance, Puck whispered to Rosalind. "What are we doing?" he wondered. "I hope you have some sort of plan."

"I do now," Rosalind admitted, releasing Puck's hand quickly. "And sorry about calling you Robin but I didn't want to call you Puck in front of the teacher. I didn't think it was an appropriate name for a human child."

"An appropriate name?" Puck asked her.

At the same moment, a boy burst through the exit to the school and ran after a group of kids who was walking towards the side of the parking lot where the cars were parked. The kids in the group were all dressed peculiar in pants with legs that were way to big. They wore a lot of black and a lot of facial makeup. The girls even had on black lipstick. A few of the guys had tall, spiky hair that was painted with a hint of green or blue, strange colors for hair. The boy who was running towards the group was one of those boys with the dyed hair that colored only the very tips of each hair strand.

"Hey!" the boy called out to his friends. "Hey Bone! Links! Wait up for me!"

Rosalind looked at Puck. "Did he just call some of his friends Bone and Link?"

Puck nodded and snickered. "And you think my nickname is weird?"

"Oh shut up," Rosalind said, pushing Puck towards the double doors.

Because of the shove that she gave him, Puck reached the doors first. As he pulled them open, behind them, the buses were pulling out of the parking lot. Puck walked into the building first and Rosalind followed closely behind him. They were in a huge atrium-like entrance hall, with several hallways that branched off and twisted away from the main hall like serpentine arms. To the right were a pair of double doors that had a sign above them that read "Theater" and to the left was a glass section of the hall that had several rooms inside and behind the glass. The sign above the door to the glass area said "Main Office". That was the place that the teacher had told them to go to call their parents or guardians. Rosalind didn't know how she would be able to call them without screaming at the top of her lungs—and her parents wouldn't hear her anyways even if she yelled because her mother was in Heaven and her father was back at home in the Republic of France, which was located in the world of Shakespeare on the edge of the magical Forest of Arden, which is believed by many to be the gateway to Fairyland, the magical place where the fairies came from many years ago, the place where magic as the mystics of Shakespeare knew it today, originated from. So, "calling" her parents, as the teacher had put it was out of the question. People of this world were very strange indeed but Rosalind didn't have time to ponder about that. She had a plan and the office was where she wanted to go.

Standing next to her, Puck was jumping up and down madly.

Rosalind regarded him. "What?" she cried. Puck was so immature that it drove her nuts.

"Can we explore the school?" Puck asked her animatedly. "Oh can we, can we? Please? Please? PLEASE?!"

"No!" Rosalind snapped at him fiercely. "No, we will not be exploring the school just for fun. We still have work to do in case you've forgotten."

"I haven't forgotten and it will be fun to take our mind off of the mission for a few minutes," Puck whined. "Come on, let's enjoy ourselves. We will never get this opportunity again. Once we find Anne, then it will be back to our world, possibly for good."

Rosalind pretended to consider it for a moment. She even feigned caring before she said, "No. Anne is our top priority and I think we can find out where she lives in this main office place."

Rosalind started walking towards the office and away from Puck before he could object to her forceful decision. "What's in the office?" Puck questioned Rosalind, as he trailed after her. As much as he wanted to explore the school, he had no choice but to follow Rosalind into the office because he didn't want to explore the school alone. Plus, there was still hope that Rosalind might change her mind with a little coercion on his part as long as he complied with what she wanted to do for a while. Puck knew all about girls and how they operated. If he gave her what she wanted, then it would make it easier for him to get what he wanted later. Rosalind was a little different than most girls he had known, but he assumed that the same rules would apply to her as well.

Rosalind ignored Puck's question and they entered the office together and found two ladies standing behind a large desk to the right that blocked the other clusters of office from access unless a person stepped through a small, swinging door that was to the far left. The two women were talking and laughing merrily, carrying on a gay conversation, but they stopped talking and looked up immediately when Rosalind and Puck entered.

"May I help you?" One of the ladies asked. She was clutching a stack of papers in her hand and looked a little annoyed. Rosalind guessed correctly that the woman was slightly perturbed because two "students" had interrupted her conversation with her friend. Rosalind could tell that this lady had a different occupation at the school than teacher just by her reaction to the appearance of her and Puck alone. Teachers were normally glad to see students, at least that how the scholars were in Shakespeare. Maybe things were a little bit different here, but nonetheless, Rosalind didn't think that this woman was a teacher.

"I'm looking for student Anne Hathaway," Rosalind spoke up in her most diplomatic of voices. "Can you help me find her?"

"Um, school is out," the annoyed woman replied. "All of the students have gone home for today."

The woman didn't seem willing to help and had fed Rosalind an excuse. Other than the voice boxes that some of the students were talking into that she had seen earlier, Rosalind was beginning to dislike the human world. She couldn't wait to return to the world of Shakespeare where people wouldn't make fun of her for walking funny and would be a little more willing to assist her if she needed assistance with something as important as finding someone as important as Anne Hathaway.

"I'm aware," Rosalind got a little snippy with the woman since she had been a little snippy with her. Puck snickered silently at the battle of being as unpleasant as possible between the two women. "I just need for you to tell me her address and then, I shall be on my way." Rosalind forced a smile.

The woman forced a smile too. "I'm afraid that I am not allowed to do that." Then, she added a simpering, "Sorry."

"But this is an office, is it not?" Rosalind asked. "Surely, you would have Anne's records on file."

"We do," the woman answered. "But, like I said, I am not allowed to give out personal information on any of the students. You understand that I will be breaking the law if I did that right?"

"I understand completely," Rosalind told her, not giving up that easily. "But in situations like this, sometimes you—"

But Puck cut her off. "I'll handle this, Rosalind."

Fearing the worse, Rosalind tried to stop him. "Puck, no!"

Puck waved his hand and for a split-second, the woman who had been addressing Rosalind went rigid and starry eyed. Then, she wobbled on the spot for a second, threatening to topple over. Rosalind stared at her, wondering what Puck had done to her. It was obvious that he had performed magic on the woman but she couldn't figure what spell he had cast with such side effects alone. The woman's friend was staring at her as well, trying to access the situation and figure out what was going on.

"Tracy?" the friend called to the dazed woman. "Are you okay?"

At that precise moment, Tracy seemed to have snapped out of her temporary trance. Her eyes refocused and she regarded her friend.

Next to Rosalind, Puck was muttering under his breath and after he had spoken, Tracy spoke immediately thereafter.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Tracy told her. Puck nodded then and Tracy nodded her head afterwards, mimicking his moves perfectly.

Rosalind watched all of this take place and then she finally understood. Puck had placed a mind-controlling charm on the unkind woman named Tracy. He was the puppeteer and she was now his puppet for as long as he willed her to be. Puck was a genius and it was times like this that Rosalind didn't mind having him with her. She was wondering why she hadn't thought of that in the first place. Sometimes she forgot that she was a mystic and could use magic.

"Are you sure?" Tracy's friend asked her, not buying it. "You looked like you were going to faint or something."

"I'm fine," Puck whispered.

"I'm fine," Tracy told her friend.

Rosalind wanted to laugh because it was so hilarious, but she refrained from doing so. It was good though to see Puck controlling Tracy. Rosalind felt that she was getting what she deserved for being short with her and Puck.

Puck faced Rosalind and so did Tracy. Puck whispered out of the side of his mouth, a perfect ventriloquist so that Tracy's friend wasn't even aware that he was speaking at all, "You were saying?"

Tracy echoed his question to Rosalind.

"I was saying that I understand all about breaking laws," Rosalind began, enjoying every moment of this, "but I feel that in situations like this, sometimes breaking laws are okay if it's for the greater good."

"You're right," Tracy agreed, and Rosalind knew that Puck had said those words as well even if she hadn't heard him whisper them.

Tracy's friend's eyes went wide. "What?" she demanded. "You agree with her? Tracy, you know that we are not allowed to do anything like—"

"Silence!" Tracy shrieked suddenly and Rosalind couldn't help but to snickered a bit then. "It is important that these people find Anne Hathaway and I am going to help them achieve their goals."

"But, you can lose your job," her friend tried to reason with her. "Is it worth going to jail just to help out some strangers?"

Tracy nodded. "Yes, it is," she said. Then, she faced Rosalind and Puck. "I'll be right back. I am going to get Anne's address for you."

"Okay," Rosalind said, grinning.

Tracy headed for one of the back offices immediately and her friend followed her, pleading with her the entire time.

When they had disappeared, Rosalind faced Puck. "That was amazing, Puck! Good idea. I never would have thought of something like that."

Puck grinned. "That's what I'm here for," he said.

Rosalind was grinning as well. "I take back what I said earlier," she told him. "I will not tell Othello what you did since you came through so brilliantly."

Puck was relieved. He didn't really want to have to face the wrath of Othello, whose wrath was said to be worse than that of Achilles, and Puck had heard some terrible stories about the supposedly immortal Greek warrior.

Puck looked at Rosalind then and gave her a puppy dog face. She knew at once that he wanted something more for his services other than her not telling Othello about the fireworks display.

"What else do you want?" Rosalind questioned him.

"Can we explore some afterwards? Please?" Puck begged. "I won't be long."

Rosalind really considered it this time. Once they had Anne's address, they would be able to find her in no time and should be well on their way back to Shakespeare soon thereafter. If Rosalind allowed Puck to explore the school and limit his time, she didn't think that Othello or Antonio would notice that they were gone longer than they should have been as long as they had something to show for it, which they would have soon enough.

"Okay, fine, we can explore," she told Puck, who jumped up and down with excitement. "But only for a few minutes, okay? We need to get back to the Merchant's Library so that we can go find Anne."

Puck nodded in concordance.

Rosalind and Puck could hear voices then and that meant that Tracy and her friend were coming back from the office that they had disappeared into a few minutes ago. Tracy's friend was looking livid but Tracy wore a huge grin on her face, looking as though she was extremely proud of herself for helping Rosalind and Puck out. She was holding a slip of paper in her hands.

"Here you go," Tracy said, handing the paper to Rosalind. "That's Anne Hathaway's address."

Rosalind looked it over once to ensure that an actual address had been written there. Then, she said, "Thank you. Thank you very much."

"You're welcome," Tracy said.

Rosalind and Puck prepared to take their leave. Puck looked over at Tracy's friend, who was glowering with her arms folded across her chest. He smiled at her and she turned away from him. Then, Puck and Rosalind left to go exploring. The moment that he stepped outside of the main office, Puck snapped his fingers and the spell had been lifted.

--

Will hurried into his boss's office at the courier business where he worked, anxious and worried. He regretted not calling Anne the night before—Antonio turning him away when he went to visit him at the Merchant's Library had dampened his spirits and he had just gone home and went straight to bed—and knew that she was angry with him, but he hadn't expected this. It was not like her to miss school and it was not like her to answer the phone or return his phone calls whenever he called her. And he had called her at least a dozen times today while at school, sneaking out of classes and pretending to be sick just to call her, and she was nowhere to be found.

Will knew that he had screwed up and now he was trying to make things right. His perfect reputation as being the best boyfriend was ruined now. The only thing he could do was to show Anne that he was perfect again, but Will wasn't perfect. He never was and he never will be. And no relationship was perfect ever either. There were always problems and Will was surprised that he and Anne had gone so long without a major argument.

Things were changing now and things would never go back to being the way that they were exactly before. Will wanted to be with Anne; he wanted to be with her for as long as Heaven willed them to be together, even if that meant forever and ever. But he could never go back to being the perfect boyfriend, not at least until Anne finally learned whom he really was. Will hadn't been completely honest with Anne from the beginning and now with the outbreak of a potential disaster with him not calling her last night after promising, he was beginning to see that keeping secrets hidden from Anne for so long was not a good idea.

But Will had done what he had to do to protect Anne for as long as possible. He never wanted her to know that he was from a different world. She wouldn't have believed him anyways. No human in his or her right mind would believe something like that without proof. Will had proof, of course. All he would have had to do was perform a simple magical spell and that's what he had been afraid of. The spell would have succeeded in proving to Anne that he was from another world, but it more than likely would have scared her away. And Will didn't want that. He had fallen in love with Anne that first day that they had met. He had known then that she was the perfect girl for him and he wouldn't have settled for anyone else, especially if he was the reason for scaring Anne away with the truth about himself.

That was why Will had never told Anne where he had truly come from. He had told her too much already by admitting to her that he and Antonio were old friends. But Anne didn't know the truth about Antonio either so Will's secret was still safe, but for how long? How long would his secret remain now that Anne had read from one of the Shakespearean manuscripts? He had been given instructions before he had left his home a year ago and he had gotten her to read one even though he didn't really want her to. Now what? What will happen now? Now that Anne had read a manuscript, what would happen? Was Will's future with her secured or would she learn the truth and get as far away from him as she could? Whenever he talked to her soon, Will was tempted to go ahead and tell her the truth before she found it out some other way.

Will threw down his backpack and closed the door behind him. If he managed to reach Anne this time, he didn't want his boss or his fellow co-workers eavesdropping. He wasn't planning on telling Anne everything over the phone—he rather do it in person; it would be better that way even if it would be harder—but he still didn't want anyone overhearing what they would be discussing. He was sure that Anne was mad at him, but he just didn't know how mad. There might be some yelling or sobbing; he didn't know. This was Will's first serious relationship. He really didn't have any experience in this department.

Will picked up the store's phone and dialed Anne's home number. He listened and waited. It rung five times before going to the voicemail of Alice greeting all callers happily and telling them to leave a message—the typical voicemail greeting. Furious and disappointed, Will hung up the phone and pulled out his cell phone. He tried Anne's apartment again and was met with the same results. He was tempted to leave a message, anything to get Anne to call him back but he didn't want Alice to hear it first and know that they were fighting. He would be uncomfortable around Alice from that point forward if he knew that he had left a message begging Anne to call him back and Alice had heard it.

Next, Will tried Anne's cell phone, assuming that she might be out somewhere with Alice, or with Melody now that school was out for the day. He knew that Melody had gone to school today because he had seen her and together the two of them had wondered where Anne was. Melody probably managed to reach her during some point in the day since they were more than likely still on speaking terms since Anne wasn't mad at Melody for all Will knew, and Will cursed himself for not telling Melody to have Anne call him as soon as possible when he had seen her in the hallway.

He tried Anne's cell phone with the work phone and his own cell phone and received similar results as trying to reach Anne at home. The only difference was that her cell phone had gone straight to voicemail, meaning that Anne had turned it off. So, she was at home. If she were out and about, she wouldn't have her cell phone off. She always kept it on whenever she went somewhere in case Alice needed to reach her for an emergency and vice versa.

Will sat in his boss's chair and sighed. Anne was ignoring him. How long would she keep up this tirade, he had no clue. All he wanted to do was talk to her for a few seconds, long enough to explain what had happened and ask for her forgiveness. He just wanted her to talk to him again. She could stay mad at him for a while—girls seemed to hold grudges for a long time—but he didn't care. He just wanted his Anne back. He missed her. He truly missed her and he had only gone a day without speaking to her.

Will couldn't imagine what it would be like if Anne ignored him for a few days, or even a few weeks. He was in so much pain after only a day that it felt like his insides had been torn apart like shredded paper. Love hurt and he had found that out the hard way. What was it that the founder of the world of Shakespeare, William Shakespeare himself, had said about true love? Will struggled to remember the quote that Antonio had once told him. What was it? He thought hard, remembering hearing part of the quote from one of the Shakespearean manuscripts about fairies and a potent love potion. What was that quote he had read? It would bug him for the rest of the evening, like not talking to Anne was bugging him, if he didn't remember that quote as soon as he could.

Then, he remembered it as clearly as if it had just been recited to him. "The course of true love never did run smooth."

So true were the words of Shakespeare. So true.

The door to the office opened without warning then and Will thought that it was his boss coming to tell him to get to work although he still had about fifteen more minutes before he was due to clock in. But then, he saw that the man was walking into the office with a slight limp, a familiar gait that Will couldn't place until the man had stepped all the way into the office and Will could see the half-scarred face and the two swords gleaming on either side of the man's waist.

"Caliban!" Will stood up and cried in a shocked voice; Caliban smiled at him. "What are you doing here?"

Caliban limped towards him and Will rephrased his question. "_How _did you get in here?"

Will noticed the silvery, silky, translucent item that was draped over Caliban's left arm and he knew the answer to his second question before Caliban had even spoken, and he was confused now. What was that thing?

Caliban held up the object proudly and Will noticed that it was a cloak of some kind—a transparent cloak. "A special cloak that was crafted by a tailor from Padua," he explained to Will in his gruff voice. "It allows its wearer to become invisible and to be able to walk through solid barriers. The wearer is also protected from most spells and of course, there is one major drawback—the wearer cannot perform magic while wearing the cloak. However, the cloak is still very useful, especially if I wanted to sneak into a place to see a familiar face."

"What are you doing here?" Will demanded a second time. He didn't seem too happy to see Caliban and had reverted back to his first question. Ever since the last night that he had spent in Shakespeare, Will didn't trust Caliban and thought that he was up to no good. "You came to ask me—" Will started to get riled up but Caliban shoved a crinkled photograph into Will's hand and it served its purpose of silencing him.

"What's this?" Will demanded, proposing a new inquiry.

"Look at it," was all that Caliban said. "Quickly now, we don't have much time."

"We don't have much time for what," Will grumbled, looking down at the picture. "I never agreed to help you—"

Will stopped talking immediately when he saw whom the picture was of and he gasped. He nearly dropped the picture and nearly fell back into the wall. The picture . . . he couldn't believe it. The picture was of Anne. That was impossible. What had Caliban dragged Anne into? Will felt his entire world crumbling to pieces around him.

"How did you get this?" Will asked Caliban.

"It was magic," Caliban replied simply. "Do you know her? Do you know Anne Hathaway? I was hoping that you might know her?"

"Why?" Will half-screamed at Caliban. "What twisted game do you have in store for her?"

Caliban looked offended. "Twisted game?" he echoed. "Come on, Will, you know me better than that."

"I thought I knew you, Caliban," Will shot back. "But I was wrong, wasn't I? Now tell me what you are doing with Anne's picture?"

Caliban took a step back from Will and his face showed mock surprise. "You do know her, don't you?"

Will sighed in frustration. This day was beginning to become too much for him to handle. First, Anne ignored him the entire day, which made him feel really bad on the inside and now, Caliban had paid him a surprise visit in the human world. Just what was Caliban doing here? He had to have a reason to be there. Caliban was no pawn; he didn't just do things without a purpose or without a way to benefit himself some how. Caliban was selfish and he didn't care about anyone except for saving his own skin. Will had realized that too late but never again would he fall for Caliban's lies. He would get to the bottom of everything and he would stop Caliban somehow. He just couldn't believe that Anne was involved. Did she know everything already? If not, what did she know? All Will could do was assume that she knew something because of her avoidance of him. What she knew about Will scared her and she was going to stay away from him for forever. Will's heart ached suddenly and he felt weak.

Grabbing onto the edge of the desk in front of him to maintain his balance, Will told Caliban, "Of course, I know her. She's my girlfriend, okay? Now, what are you doing with a picture of her? What have you told her?"

Even though Caliban could not believe what he had just heard, he didn't show it on his face. This was now deeper than he ever imagined. Will was definitely involved with Anne Hathaway and his relationship with her was greater than Caliban would have ever suspected. Of all the human girls, Will had to choose Anne Hathaway to fall in love with. It was like something out of a fairy tale, although Caliban was not a big fan of such sappy love stories with lessons learned and all that jazz.

"I haven't told her anything," Caliban assured Will calmly.

"Then, why do you have her picture?"

"Calm down," Caliban attempted to soothe Will's burning spirits but his efforts were futile. "I'm trying to explain."

"Well, explain quicker," Will said. "Like you mentioned, we don't have much time, so spill the beans."

"Spill the beans?" Caliban echoed.

Will sighed. "It's a human expression that means get to the point," he clarified. "So stop stalling and tell me just what in the hell you are doing here with a picture of my girlfriend?"

"I am here to find Anne Hathaway and you are going to help me find her," Caliban put it bluntly. After all, Will had told him to "spill the beans" and that what he did. There was no other explanation for it. Caliban wanted and needed to find Anne and Will was going to help him—simple as that. Of course, things were complicated now because Will was very close to Anne but Caliban was going to persuade him one way or another, even if he had to utilize more tools than just his slippery tongue.

Will narrowed his eyes and glared at Caliban. "Now, why would I want to do something like that? Why would I help you find my girlfriend so you can do God knows what with her? No thank you. I have to pass up this opportunity for a mission, my Master."

And with that, Will threw the picture of Anne back at Caliban and stepped around him to escape the office. Will paused at the door and looked back at Caliban. "And oh yeah, you better stay away from me and Anne if you know what is good for you."

"Is that a threat?" Caliban asked Will.

"It's a promise," Will might as well have actually spat on Caliban when he said that.

"Your _threats _are empty young sentinel and you _will _help me find Anne."

"No, I won't," Will said defiantly. "Whatever scheme you had in store for her, you can cancel it okay? You can also return to Shakespeare and back to the Dark Lady where you belong. You are not welcomed here."

Caliban grabbed Will suddenly by the shoulder and Will tensed for a fight; however, Caliban was not trying to pick a fight. Instead, he said. "Will, my friend," and at the mention of the word "friend", Will huffed but he listened silently otherwise. "Trust me just this once, please?" Will couldn't believe it. Caliban was pleading and Caliban never did such a thing. The notion was outrageous and outlandish. "I know that I have wronged you before and I'm sorry but you have to take me to Anne. It is _imperative _that you lead me to Anne because the fate of the world of Shakespeare may depend upon it."


	7. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Seven**

I checked the caller ID for the hundredth time. I knew already that the last time that Will had called me was nearly half an hour ago, but I could not figure out for the life of me why I kept checking the caller ID again and again as though I was expecting him to call back soon.

But he would not be able to call me back soon. He was at work and I was aware that he wouldn't be able to take a break for quite a while. Alice would probably be home before Will was able to call me again.

I had arrived home about an hour ago. After I had applied at the seafood restaurant, I went and applied at several more restaurants in the square. Next, I walked into downtown and applied to a stock clerk position at the main branch of the town's public library. The local art museum was also hiring and I said to myself why not? I applied there for a strange job that I couldn't even remember what it was called. I also applied at a few more restaurants in the general area, another bookstore that was very similar to Antonio's and as a barista at a local coffee shop—I applied for that job because I thought that the job title was cool.

All and all, it had been a pretty successful day. I didn't receive any jobs on the spot but a few of them told me that they would be contacting me as soon as possible about the results of several interviews that was given to me immediately after I had filled out an application for a few of the jobs. The library was really in need of help and I assumed that it would be a given even though I didn't have any previous work experience. The same thing applied to the barista job and of course, all of the restaurants. Restaurants seemed to have a high turnover rate and were always in need of new hires.

Now, I was back at home, waiting on Alice to come home after classes. I had recently hung up the phone with Melody, who checked on me to make sure that everything was all right. I felt bad about skipping out of school today without letting her know, so I invited her to hangout with Alice and me. I knew that Alice wouldn't mind since Melody was becoming more and more like a third sister to the two of us with each passing day. Melody was thrilled to join us and told me that she would be over after she finished her homework, which she thought would take a little over an hour.

I sat on the sofa and stared down at the phone again. I figured out what I was doing. I was stalling, debating if I wanted to give in and call Will at work. I missed him deeply and obviously he was missing me—he had called way too many times throughout the day.

I made a snap decision and dialed Will's cell phone. I couldn't hold off another moment without speaking to him. I was surprised that I had even lasted this long. I've never had great willpower and I usually gave in quickly to something without putting up much of a fight. If I had to wager that if I had gone to school instead of playing hooky today or if I hadn't had any plans in the city, I probably would have gave in and called Will way before now, or I would have at least answered one of his phone calls.

I had to admit that as tough as I tried to be, I really didn't have a mean bone in me. And Will was . . . well, I was madly in love with him and I knew that our love could withstand such a minor problem. It would take a lot more than just one broken promise to derail this love train. But then again, even though it was only one, it would leave a scar for a very long time. Will had wounded me and I needed some time before I could be completely healed.

Will didn't answer his cell phone and I couldn't prevent the storming of thoughts that told me that it was his turn to ignore me now, even though I knew that he was at work. The human mind is a complex thing and there's so much that goes on upstairs that it is very difficult to filter out everything—all of the thoughts, memories, and desires. It was like watching several channels of cable TV at the same time and on the same television set. You can focus on only one channel at a time, yet you can also pay attention to all of the other channels and know exactly what was going on there as well. It was so fascinating how that worked.

Right now, I was thinking about Will being at work, what he was doing, and wondering how quickly he would look at his phone and see that I had called him and then, call me back. At the same exact moment, I was also pondering if I should call him at work as well as what movie Alice and I should watch and what we would be eating for dinner. I was also thinking about a very beautiful woman with fiery red hair that danced around her angelic face like licking flames and gorgeous green eyes that entranced me, drawing me in so that she could hold my attention long enough to address me. She looked as though she had something really important to tell me and her eyes were reeling me in . . . .

Whoa! I snapped out of my temporary stupor. I was confused. What had just happened? It felt like I had blacked out and was dreaming. One moment I was thinking about movies, food and Will, and the next I was staring at a beautiful woman, which made me shudder and feel strangely uncomfortable.

As much as I hated to admit it, I had been attracted to the woman in my vision—for lack of another term to call what I had just seen. Not attracted in the sense that I was with Will because I loved him, but she had intrigued me an awful lot. It had felt as if she had been real and not just a part of my wandering thoughts that were all over the place. It was like she was a real person who was standing in the living room with me.

I looked around feeling slightly paranoid. No one was there of course, but I couldn't suppress the creepy feeling that I was being watched.

I needed to take my mind off of the strange, beautiful woman who I thought was watching me. Will hadn't called me back yet and I found myself dialing his work number.

Someone answered on the third ring but it wasn't my Will. It was one of his co-workers.

"Hello?" The guy answered the phone. "Thanks for calling Avon Courier Service. This is Brad speaking. How may I help you?"

I had hoped that Will would have picked up the phone—he usually did—and I was slightly disappointed. If Will had answered the phone, there would have been no way for him to avoid me—if he _was_ avoiding me now too—unless he was flat out rude and hung up the phone on me. Will would never hang up on me anyways, but I had thought that he would never break a promise with me and look what happened there. Nonetheless, since Brad had answered the phone, Will could simply avoid me by telling Brad that he was currently busy and would call me back later. So, would Will lie to me like that? Stay tuned . . . .

"Hi, Brad," I greeted him. "Is Will Stratford around?"

"Um, I don't think so," Brad replied.

My jaw dropped. "He's not working today?" My heart sunk too. Where was my darling? Was he okay? I was worried now and I felt horrible for eluding him all day.

"Oh, he is," said Brad and I felt mostly relieved. "But he stepped out for a while. He should be back later."

"Did he say where he was going?" I wondered, biting my lower lip. It wasn't like Will to leave work during the middle of a shift. He barely took lunch breaks for crying out loud.

"No," Brad informed me. "He just said that he'll be back and then he left."

Odd. What was Will up to? None of this made sense at all. What had gotten into him lately? All of a sudden he was a very different person, acting very bizarrely. He reminded me of those people from that book series about teenagers who could turn into animals, who were controlled by slug-like aliens who took over their minds.

"Okay, well, I'll just try back later," I told Brad. "Thanks."

I hung up the phone and just sat there staring at nothing for a while. I knew that it was a waste of time but I tried to figure out what was wrong with Will. Before yesterday, he was the Will that I loved with all of my heart. When had this sudden change in behavior taken place and was I present for it the very first time? I tried to remember yesterday and I had no problem recalling every single event that had transpired the day before. When had Will changed? When did he start acting—

And then, I remembered. It was because of the stupid Shakespearean manuscripts that he had wanted me to read. That was when the change had occurred, when I had told him that I had read from one of them. Will had been a little too excited when I had told him about my experience. He had wanted all along for me to read from one of the manuscripts, which had never made sense. What was so important about those documents? I knew that Antonio had never allowed Will to read one of them as a kid so maybe that's why they were so dear to Will. That was why he had wanted me to read one so that I could experience what he never could and then tell him all about it.

But that still didn't explain why Will was acting so weird today. What was he doing? Had he taken an early lunch break or had he just left his job without telling anyone where he was going and how long he would be gone? Had he put his job in jeopardy by walking out? I hoped that he had not done it for me although I didn't think that he did. I couldn't bear it if he had lost his job because of me.

My head started to ache and I slid off of the couch. I walked into the bathroom and found some ibuprofen in the medicine cabinet. I popped a couple of them without anything to wash them down. I then returned the bottle of pills to the shelf from whence they had come and then I closed the cabinet door.

I saw a reflection of a woman standing behind me in the mirror. She had fiery red hair . . . .

I jumped and spun around. The bathroom was empty. I was all alone. Suddenly, I was delusional. Through my headache, I was seeing things and my mind had elected to show me the woman from my vision again. In the flash of a second that I had seen her reflection in the mirror, she had been motioning for me to come towards with a twitching of one of her pointer fingers. She had wanted me to come and listen to what she had to say . . . .

_Ding-dong! Ding-dong!_

The doorbell chimed twice and I jumped again. Seeing that reflection—or believing that I had seen a reflection behind me—had me on edge now. I left the bathroom and headed back into the living room. Passing the kitchen, I glanced at the time on the microwave and decided that it was too early for Alice to be home unless she had skipped her last class of the day. Assuming it was Melody, although I hadn't expected her so soon either, I peeked through the peephole.

"Who is it?" I called timidly through the door. I was always nervous to answer the door whenever I was home by myself.

"Anne, it's me," came Will's voice the moment that I saw his handsome face. It was distorted as though I was looking at it from inside of a funhouse mirror but handsome just the same.

I was happy to see Will, so happy to see him, but my initial happiness faded away quickly when I realized that he had left work just to see me. He shouldn't have done it. What was he thinking?

As soon as we made up, I was going to chide him for leaving work. He didn't need to get fired because I had been a jerk by eluding him today.

I tore the front door open, nearly almost forgetting to undo the chain. "Will!" I cried and I threw myself into his arms, burying my face into his right shoulder. "I am so sorry! I should not have avoided you all day just because you didn't call me last night. But you broke your promise and I was mad and . . . and I'm sorry, okay?"

Will patted my head several times. "It's okay, Anne," he soothed me and it felt so good to be back into his strong arms once again. An entire day almost was just too much time to be away from something so pretty as my marvelous boyfriend.

I pulled back slowly and he released me. I kissed him at once and he kissed me back, although something didn't feel right about his kiss. It was a nervous kiss as if he was kissing me for the first time again.

When I could no longer bear the strange kiss, I pulled away from him again. I looked at him as he held me out at arm's length, staring away into his eyes. I saw nervousness there as well.

"Will, what's wrong?" I questioned him inquisitively. "Is everything all right?"

Will didn't respond. He just stared back at me, his face stark white.

"What's wrong?" I repeated.

And then, the first of many strange events that would occur in my life from that point forward took place. A man, a man with half a disfigured face and who was dressed like he had popped out of a fantasy book by Tolkien or Paolini, materialized immediately to my right to stand beside Will. One second he wasn't there, invisible to the naked eye, and then the next, he was pulling a strange, liquid clear cloak off. The more of the cloak he pulled off, the more of his body was revealed until he was standing there in the hallway with Will and me, the cloak falling to the floor near his feet.

I gasped in shock and scrambled backwards into the doorframe of my apartment. I was horrified. That was not possible. There was no way that someone could appear out of thin air. I was seeing things again. The man, who I noticed was vaguely familiar looking like I had met him somewhere before, was not real. He was not there at all. He was an apparition, a mirage, and an illusion. It was just Will and I there. There was no one else present.

I closed my eyes and squeezed them shut for a moment, telling myself over and over again that when I opened my eyes again, the man would no longer be there.

I opened my eyes. He was still standing there, smirking. Again, he looked familiar and again, I closed my eyes, blinking. When I looked a third time, the newcomer was still there.

He was real. I knew it then, but, but, but, HOW did he just appear out of nowhere? The cloak had something to do with it but I had never heard of a cloak that can cause people to disappear or reappear. It was unheard of. It was preposterous and yet it had happened.

I was still suffering from shock when the stranger spoke. His voice sounded familiar too but I couldn't quite place where I had heard it before. I knew that it wasn't school because the man was far too old to be in one of my classes.

"So," the man said, drawing out that one word for effect of an introduction. "You're the one who read from the manuscript and caused the relics to become lost?"

I was baffled as much as I was stunned. What was he talking about? I didn't know this guy at all, yet he seemed to know stuff about me. How did he know that I had read from one of the Shakespearean manuscripts—I assumed that he was talking about the manuscripts that Antonio possessed? Had Will told him? And what did he mean by relics? He had said that I had made the relics become lost by reading from a book. What was he talking about? The only relics I knew remotely about were the Seven Relics from my dreams that I had been having . . . .

Oh my God! My mind cried, appalled by the very thought. OH MY GOD! I knew who the man was now and that was impossible just as much as him appearing from invisibility was. The man was Caliban from my dreams about the world of Shakespeare that my subconscious mind had created. Or at least I had thought all along that I had crafted the world from Shakespearean plays but here was Caliban in the flesh, standing before me.

Caliban . . . . I could not believe this. He looked just as he did in my dreams. And as he took a step towards me, I noticed that he walked with the same slight limp.

I gasped again and backed away from him. Will moved forward as if to block Caliban from getting to me. Caliban . . . wait what was I doing referring to the man as Caliban? He may look exactly like Caliban from my dreams, but there was no way that he could be Caliban. Caliban didn't exist. He was a fictional character and nothing more. He was only alive in the play by Shakespeare that was entitled _The Tempest_ and in my head sometimes at night. He was not real, I attempted to convince myself. He was _not_ real.

Anyways, the man who looked like Caliban halted and continue to stare at me as though I was fresh meat.

"So, you are Anne Hathaway," the man made a statement more so than asking me a question. He was trying a different approach, trying to get me to talk. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Anne. I have been waiting for this moment for quite some time now."

"Who are you?" I demanded, finding my voice although it did not sound like my own. I looked at Will and pleaded silently with him to tell me what was going on. I was so bewildered.

"I am Caliban," the man announced proudly and I felt faint all of a sudden. So he was Caliban. How was someone who was in my dreams apart of my reality when he shouldn't have been? I didn't understand it at all. There was no logical explanation for this. "I am leader of the Sycorax and I am here in desperate need of your help, Anne Hathaway."

The word Sycorax made perfect sense to me and my mind immediately processed the meaning of the word with two definitions. The first one was that Sycorax was the name of Caliban's witch mother from _The Tempest_ and the second one was that the Sycorax was also the name of the group of swordsmen who protected the borders of the free lands in the world of Shakespeare. Yeah, it made perfect sense and yet, I couldn't believe that I was hearing the word being spoken by someone other than those who were present in my dreams.

"How do you know my name?" I questioned him. Caliban seemed to enjoy saying my name and I wanted him to stop. It sounded creepy when he said "Anne Hathaway".

"Your boyfriend, Will, and I, we are old friends," Caliban explained and I looked at Will in disbelief. "He has told me so much about you already."

"Will, is this true?" I asked him. "What's going on? Baby, please answer me?"

Will nodded but didn't speak.

"So, this is all true?" I tried to get Will to talk to me like Caliban had tried to get me to talk to him earlier. "You know this man?"

Will walked towards me and I found myself backing away from him too. I was nearly back inside of the apartment now.

"Yes," Will responded, taken aback by me wanting to stay away from him. Sadly, Will being in the company of Caliban was scary and it terrified me. Add that to the fact that I had no earthly idea what was going on and I was petrified. "Yes, I know Caliban." he sighed and took a deep breath. It seemed difficult for him to continue to speak. "Look Anne, there are many things that you don't know about me, things that I haven't told you. And I'm sorry. For the past year, I have hiding behind a mask and now, it is time for me to take the mask off and come clean if you are to accompany me and Caliban."

It took only the blink of an eye for my complex brain to comprehend what Will had just told me. Devastation took over my mind, body, heart, and soul. I felt a hundred times worse than I had felt when I had first woken up this morning. It was like I didn't know Will at all anymore and in fact, I hadn't known him at all. He just admitted it himself that he had been living a lie ever since I had met him. Living a lie . . . .

For an entire year, I was convinced that Will was perfect. Now, I knew that he had been perfect in only one thing. And that was lying. He had been the perfect liar. I had never suspected anything, never wondered if there was much more to him than he had told me about. I still didn't know everything yet, but I felt my heart being ripped into two and then fours and then eights and so forth.

"Accompany you?" I echoed, and I started to sob. The tears poured and I was in so much pain, although I could not feel it physically. "Will, I don't even know you."

Will looked troubled. "Anne . . . ."

"Stay away from me, Will!" I yelled suddenly and it felt like torture. "You stay away from me."

I backed away from Will and Caliban some more, trying to keep enough distance between me and the two of them so that I could be able to close the door in their faces quickly when I was completely inside of my apartment. I didn't want to see Will right now and I didn't want to see Caliban ever.

"Anne," Will tried again softly. He moved towards me and I inched away from him. My back foot was inside of the apartment now. A few more steps and I would be there.

The smirk faded from Caliban's face instantaneously. He saw what I was doing and he was going to stop me.

"Move aside, Will!" Caliban growled and he shoved Will out of his way. "You are coming with me, Anne!"

I panicked and moved backwards quickly. I tripped and stumbled over my own two feet but I didn't fall to the floor. I seized the door with my outstretched hands and I pushed it close. The last thing I saw of Caliban through the narrowing crack was that he was raising his hand—

_Ka-booooom!_

With the sound of an explosion that shook the room and temporarily deafened my ears, the front door was thrown off of its hinges and I was sent careening through the air and over the sofa, which slowed my decent considerably. I tumbled to the floor and stood up quickly, my head pounding now.

I saw Caliban approaching and Will was on his heels. Will was yelling at him.

"What did you do, Caliban? Really, did you have to blow up the door? You could have killed Anne, you idiot! If she is hurt, then I am going to kill you!"

"She's not hurt," Caliban assured him, pointing at me. I stood there behind the sofa, trying to figure out what to do next. I was trapped. Just like in my dreams, Caliban could perform magic. This was not happening. This was not happening! Since Caliban could do almost anything through magic, there was no way that I could escape in conventional ways. The only way I could would be to utilize magic myself but I couldn't do that. Now _that _was something that was impossible.

"Okay," Will said, and he seemed relieved when he could see that I was okay. He stepped into the apartment behind Caliban. I looked past them and through the open doorway, expecting someone from the apartment building to come to my aid. Surely, someone had heard that loud explosion that Caliban had created with . . . with . . . and I was still having trouble believing this . . . but with . . . with . . . magic! "Let's talk about this, Caliban."

"What's there to talk about, Will?" Caliban asked him but he had frozen, which was more than I could ask for at the moment. Even though I didn't like Will right about now, I had to silently thank him for giving me more time to think and come up with a plan. "Anne has to come with us. There is no other way! You know that!"

"But we can't force her to!" Will screamed back at Caliban. "What about her own free will? We need to tell Anne what is going on and allow her to make the decision to come with us. We can't just make her! That's kidnapping!"

"I don't want to go anywhere with the two of you!" I spat suddenly. "Just leave me alone!" And I started to cry harder.

"Anne," Will spoke again but Caliban prevented him from saying anything more.

"You see, Will," Caliban was saying. "It would be a waste of time to explain everything to Anne and convince her to come along with us when she won't do it no matter what we tell her. Time is of the essence, my friend. Even while we stand here and debate like some of the pointless meetings of the King's Men, the Dark Lady and her new allies are marching closer and closer to rebellion. The Relics are the only things that can stop them. I am not the enemy and Anne must come with me."

The King's Men and the Dark Lady. Those were also two terms that I knew from my reoccurring dreams. Everything that I had dreamed about was my reality now, which made me question if my dreams had really been dreams or something else.

"But what about the King's Men?" Will wondered. "Why should we take her back to the Sycorax when Prospero and the others can help us?"

"I have my reasons," Caliban replied simply and said nothing more.

Will glared at Caliban. Caliban wasn't paying attention. He was eyeing me hungrily and I almost called him a pedophile.

"Well, your hidden reasons aren't good enough," Will told him. "I think we should tell Anne what is going on."

"No," Caliban growled and he leapt at me so suddenly that I didn't even have time to move out of the way.

Caliban fell upon me like a bird of prey. I was the helpless little rodent that he had ensnared; however, I wasn't defenseless. I kicked and screamed and threw a tantrum to try and shake him off of me. I even bit him on the arm, the only part of his body I could reach as his arms wrapped around my shoulders, enclosing me in a flesh prison.

Caliban shrieked and howled in pain. He hadn't expected me to gnaw on his arm, taking a chunk of skin with me. And it was enough for him to release me.

I ran away immediately while Caliban regained his composure. I headed for the open door, hoping that Will wouldn't try to stop me. If he really cared about me and if he really loved me then he wouldn't stand in my way of a clear exit.

Will cared about me and loved me and it showed. He didn't even flinch as I darted past him. Caliban told him to stop me but Will wouldn't listen. So, Caliban dashed after me. I had scrambled through the doorway and had taken several steps out in the hallway before Caliban had snatched me up and pulled me back into the apartment. Now, if Will cared about me and loved me, he would do something to get Caliban to release me.

"No!" I screamed, trying to make as much noise as possible because my neighbors in the apartment building seemed to be extremely deaf. "No! Let me go! Will, do something!"

Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw Will coming over to help me but Caliban raised a hand, a gesture I understood to happen whenever someone performed a spell, and Will was magicked away.

Will crashed into the nearest wall and I shrieked in rage and horror. "Will!" I cried, fearing the worse. And I thought that Caliban was his friend. Friends just didn't do stuff like that to friends.

But Will was tougher than he looked. With his pride hurt more than anything, he climbed to his feet and glared at Caliban again. "What was that for?" he demanded.

Caliban didn't answer Will's question. "Let's go," he growled.

Clutching me tightly, Caliban turned to exit the apartment. But the exit was blocked and I couldn't believe how many surprises I was receiving today. It was too much for me and I predicted that I would have a heart attack at any moment now.

A girl was standing in the doorway, a shimmering, ghostly girl. She was the same girl that I had seen at the seafood restaurant earlier, the one who had been sitting at the table with the much older black man. She appeared to be glowing just like before and she stood there staring at the three of us. I couldn't help but to wonder, as I peered at her through my drying tears, what role she would have to play in all of this.

"Leave her alone!" The girl demanded and for a moment I was taken by surprise that she had come in behalf of my defense. "Let her go Caliban, or I will be forced to hex you!"

"Ariel!" Caliban called in mock surprise and introduced the girl to me. I didn't have to think long and hard to recall my expertise of Shakespearean lore. I knew that Ariel was the name of the spirit girl from the same play that Caliban was a character in. "Where is the rest of your friends? Surely, you did not come alone."

"I didn't," Ariel confessed. "I am not alone. Othello and the others are on their way up here. Othello sensed that something was wrong up here when we arrived and he sent me to investigate. But I didn't expect this. What are you doing here, Caliban?"

"The same reason why you are here, I would presume," Caliban told her. "I am here for the girl."

"How did you know about Anne Hathaway and the manuscripts?" Ariel questioned Caliban. I loved how they all talked to each other as if I wasn't even standing there and I hated how they loved to include my last name every time they referred to me.

"I just know," Caliban said. "Now, quit stalling Ariel until your friends get here and move out of my way. I am taking Anne with me back to Shakespeare. I don't need the help of the King's Men to recover the Relics. The Sycorax can do it alone and restore peace and glory to the lands that we protect."

"I can't let you go, Caliban," Ariel informed him. "If you stay here, then the Sycorax and the King's Men can work together to stop the Dark Lady's rebellion. But if you leave right now with Anne and return to Shakespeare, you will be branded as a traitor by the King's Men and things will no longer look so good for you. There is already talk among my colleagues who believe that you have already betrayed us by being in league with the Dark Lady. Do not make everyone believe this to be true. The Sycorax need the King's Men, just as much as the King's Men need the Sycorax."

Caliban raised a hand. One of his arms had a secure hold on me so I couldn't move at all. Now was my chance to escape but Caliban held on to me tightly. He was very strong. My only hope relied on the appearance of Othello, who Ariel had mentioned, and other accompanying members of the King's Men.

"I'm warning you, Ariel," Caliban said in a sinister voice.

Ariel stood her ground. "Do as you wish, Caliban," she said. "You can't hurt me."

"Yeah, I know," Caliban agreed. "But I can distract you."

Caliban fired several hexes at Ariel, who dodged them and put up a magical shield around her already shimmering body. That was enough of a distraction for Caliban. Throwing me over his shoulder, he ran swiftly between a distracted Ariel and a disoriented Will and out of the apartment.

"Put me down!" I screamed, pounding my fists into Caliban's back until I was tired and ceased doing so. Caliban ignored me and ran down the hallway. I could hear Will and Ariel coming after us.

"Help!" I called to anyone who could hear me as we dashed past apartment after apartment. I never thought that a person could run so fast like Caliban was running. We were moving along at such a rapid pace that I was beginning to get dizzy. However, not even the onslaught of vertigo could stop me from yelling, "Help!" continuously.

"Silence!" Caliban cried in annoyance. He looked up at me and waved a hand in my direction and I fell silent immediately after his command. I tried to cry out for help again but I couldn't speak at all. My voice was gone. Caliban had magicked my voice away!

Angrily, I slapped him hard on the back, careful to avoid the quiver of arrows that I had only just noticed. That got his attention and it made him as mad as I was. That wasn't fair of him to steal my voice away anyway.

"If you hit me one more time," Caliban threatened me through gritted teeth. If his voice had sounded like a growl before, it was worse now. It was more like a roar when he spoke like that. "I will hex your arms off, do you understand me?"

I froze. I didn't think that Caliban would go through with his word. After all, he had told Will that I was important and that he needed me because of the Relics—my head was spinning whenever I thought about the Relics and disbelief about the entire ordeal that was taking place so far was just unreal—so I didn't think that he would curse me like that. Nonetheless, Caliban was the type of person who frightened me deeply and I did as he said out of fright and with the knowledge that he could probably jinx my arms off if he wanted to. The way he had fired those spells at Ariel had told me that he was pretty gifted in magical arts.

Listen to me. I'm insane and should be locked up in a padded cell inside of an asylum. I'm talking about curses and spells and magical arts. I didn't understand how my life could turn upside-down all of a sudden. Earlier today, I had skipped school and went to look for a job in the city. Now, that was not normal teenage behavior but still, my life had been pretty normal before Will and Caliban showed up at my apartment. After that, things just got out of control and entered the world of fantasy and insanity.

Caliban was running full speed down the hallway but even then, I could tell that he was heading for the quickest exit, which would be the stairs. He had already passed the elevators. I saw them just now through slightly blurred and hectic vision since I was bobbing up and down on Caliban's shoulder as he ran with me.

At that precise moment, one of the elevators chimed, signaling the opening of its doors. Two people emerged from the elevator and one of them was Antonio from the Merchant's Library.

For a fleeting second, I wondered just what in the blazes was he doing there, but then I put it all together, the pieces fitting together nicely like a puzzle. Antonio was a part of all of this as well and he was from the world of Shakespeare, along with Caliban, Ariel, and Will. Him and Will were old friends and I realized that Antonio was from the play, _The Merchant of Venice_, as he was a merchant named Antonio. Why hadn't I seen this before? I guess I didn't ever stop to think that there was a freaking world of Shakespeare—and that's me being sarcastic by the way.

Antonio's traveling companion was odd little man who wore a mischievous look on his face, even when he was looking focused and serious as he was when he and Antonio burst from the elevator to peer left and right down the corridor as though they were in search of something or someone—hopefully me. What was strange about the little man was not only his short stature but the fact that he was flying . . . . _flying_, I said! His little gossamer wings were flapping madly on his back.

I stared at him in wide eyes and when he saw me, he alerted Antonio to Caliban's retreating back. I looked into his face and I just knew that he was a fairy and if I had to guess who he was, I would have to go with Robin Goodfellow, or Puck as he liked to be called. And yes, that was my final answer and I don't need to use any lifelines, except to be saved from Caliban please.

"There she is!" Puck called.

He and Antonio came after us as well. They were several feet ahead of Ariel and Will. Puck was the fastest since he was in the air and he zoomed after us, coming in closer and closer.

"Puck, no!" cried Antonio.

At the last moment, Caliban spun around so quickly that I thought I was going to hurl and I was no longer facing Puck. I heard an eruption of sound that resembled the hiss of a steam engine and then I heard someone cry out in horror and pain, before that person crumpled to the floor. When Caliban turned around again, I could see that Puck was lying on the floor, writhing in pain. Caliban had stunned him from the looks of it.

"Ariel!" Antonio called over his shoulder. "Tend to Puck!"

And he and Will continued to thunder after Caliban and I, while Ariel, who was looking livid, stopped to see if Puck would be okay.

"Caliban!" Antonio called. "Give it up! You have been caught! Release her!"

"Never will the King's Men claim the glory of my people!" Caliban retorted.

I heard the sound of an explosion suddenly behind me that made me cover my ears. Then, Caliban was running down a flight of stairs, sometimes taking two or three steps at a time, and all of the bouncing around was really making me nauseated. I swallowed a small amount of vomit and prayed that no more would come up again. I didn't want to throw up at all, or throw up on Caliban, who I didn't think would be very appreciative if I threw up on his cloak.

Speaking of cloaks, the fool Caliban had left the one that helped him achieve invisibility upstairs outside of my apartment. Stupid git! I was grateful that he didn't have the cloak with him because it would have helped him to elude the King's Men and Will easily. I did not wish to go anywhere with Caliban, especially alone.

We ran down several floors. Above us and slightly behind us, Antonio started firing jinxes our way that bounced off of the walls all around us. If I could have screamed I would have. What was Antonio doing? He was supposed be trying to rescue me, not injure me with spells, even if he was trying his best to slow Caliban down.

Every now and then, Caliban would retaliate with a few offensive counter attacks of his own. Like with Antonio's spells, Caliban's too missed their mark, sailing over the heads of Antonio and Will or around their hurrying bodies.

"Anne, hang in there!" Will called down to me and his words brought a sense of comfort, even though I was angry with him for lying to me for the past year. I couldn't believe that he never told me the truth. I still loved him despite his deception but I didn't know what would happen next. We could never be together anymore. Maybe in the future, he would have a second place in my heart, but that would be only after I had forgiven him and I gotten to know the real Will and survive this bizarre encounter, of course. The Will Stratford that I had thought I knew for the past year was nothing but a persona. Will had been hidden behind a mask the entire time, just like the Dark Lady . . . .

At the bottom of the staircase, when we had reached the first floor, I heard another explosion behind me and I knew that Caliban had blown the exit door off of its hinges.

We stepped through the doorway and slowly Caliban came to a halt. What was going on? I tried to hang upside down a little more and peer through the small space between Caliban's free arm and his torso. But I couldn't quite . . . make . . . it . . . .

Blind to what was happening, I heard the _ching! _of a sword being drawn from a scabbard, the metallic sound echoing throughout the hall.

"This ends here, Caliban!" I heard a girl speak. She sounded young but confident. I could not hear any nerves in her voice, which was pretty considerable since she was facing off against someone like Caliban. "Release her or suffer the wrath of the King's Men!"

Caliban laughed and his laugh echoed throughout the hall as well. "Foolish girl!" he said. "Lower your weapon; I am not your enemy."

"Then, why are you trying to kidnap her?" The girl wanted to know. "If you are not our enemy, then release her!"

Caliban raised his free hand—I could feel his shoulders shift. I waited and listened.

"Move aside!" Caliban commanded the girl. "Don't make me stun you!"

And then, several things took place in sequence that confused me so much that I didn't know what had happened.

Out of nowhere, an unseen force pried me easily out of Caliban's arms because the girl who I couldn't see had distracted him. Caliban cried out in outrage and started firing stunning spells at random. The unseen force carried me over to where the girl was standing. I was placed down against the wall and I had to duck to avoid one of Caliban's bouncing spells.

Then, he stopped shooting jinxes altogether because he was trapped now. The girl and I stood before him, blocking the main exit from the building as Antonio and Will came running up behind Caliban from the stairs.

"Show yourself!" Caliban was crying, gazing at the spot that was immediately to my left.

My savior emerged then from Caliban's nifty little cloak and the sudden appearance didn't startle me as much as it had did upstairs. It was the man from the seafood restaurant who had been waiting with Ariel for Antonio to come and eat lunch. He had to be Othello. Ariel had mentioned him earlier.

"Interesting cloak you own there, Caliban," Othello said by way of introduction. "You shouldn't leave something like that lying around. It could fall into the wrong hands and I'm pretty certain that someone like the Dark Lady, per se, could find it highly valuable and put it to good use."

"Thanks for finding my cloak for me, Othello," Caliban said sardonically. "I really appreciate you taking care of my belongings for me."

Othello didn't hesitate afterwards. He dove right into interrogating Caliban.

"What are you doing here, Caliban?"

Caliban pointed at me. "I'm here for the girl. She is going to help me recover the lost Relics. What are you doing here?"

"Official King's Men business," Othello replied simply. "The Sycorax has no business here."

Caliban chuckled. "Well, the same could be said about the King's Men."

Othello smiled. "But the Sycorax has no jurisdiction here."

"Neither does the King's Men," Caliban retorted.

"Oh, yes, we do," Othello told him with confidence. He snapped a finger and a rolled up slip of parchment appeared in his hands. Othello walked towards Caliban and held out the document. "By official order of Kings Henry and Duncan, the King's Men is authorized to search for Anne Hathaway. This was granted to us after a request from Prospero."

Caliban took the document from Othello and looked it over once. His scarred face was seared by anger. He handed the document back to Othello with contempt.

"I see that Claudius's signature and seal is not on there," Caliban observed. "May I ask why?"

Othello looked stumped. "I do not know why King Claudius did not sign the order; nonetheless, there are two Golden Kings' signatures and seals, which is a majority, and authorizes the King's Men to transport Anne Hathaway to Shakespeare."

That struck a nerve with me. I was so ticked off suddenly that I was shaking. Maybe it had to do with the adrenaline that was pumping from the excitement of the adventure that I was on. Maybe it had to do with the fact that I didn't like everyone talking about me like I wasn't even there. Both parties—Caliban and Will, I guess, against the members of the King's Men—kept conversing as if I didn't have a choice in the matter, even though some of the King's Men told Caliban that I did have a choice. Well, they weren't acting like it, especially Othello with his official decree.

"What if I don't want to go with any of you?!" I yelled in fury. "What if I don't care about the Relics? What if I want to stay here and continue to live a normal life?"

Everyone looked at me and stood there stunned as if I had cast a gigantic stunning spell that had struck all of them at the same time. I spun around and ran from the hall and out of the front door. No one tried to stop me, which I thought was very weird, although Will called weakly after me. But I didn't stop. I kept running, and I didn't halt for a very long time, tears streaking my face.

------------------------------------------------

It didn't take Will very long to find me and I knew that it wouldn't—he knew me too well.

I sat in my favorite spot—the school's clock tower—and cried my eyes out for a while. I had lost track of time and the sun was already beginning to set in the evening sky. I wondered momentarily about Alice and if she was home yet. If so, then she wouldn't find me there and she would start panicking. I didn't have my cell phone with me so she wouldn't be able to reach me. Melody was probably at the apartment by now too and she would be helping Alice try to find me. Alice would really freak out when she saw that the living room was a mess and that our front door had been destroyed.

A lot of thoughts crossed my mind while I sat there and waited for Will to find me. I thought about how topsy-turvy my life had become today. I thought about Caliban and how angry he had made me by his feeble attempt to kidnap me. I thought about Othello and the King's Men and how even though they had rescued me from Caliban's clutches, I was ungrateful. I thought about Will and how he had lied to me for an entire year.

But most of all, I thought about how bizarre this all was. I had read nearly all of Shakespeare's plays and sonnets. As a kid, I used to pretend that I was Juliet or Rosalind. I had watched many movies and many more plays that were based on the works of my favorite writer of all time. I even had dreams at night about the characters from those plays. But never, never, never, in a million years, would I have imagined that these characters were real.

So that meant that my dreams hadn't really been dreams. I don't know what they were but they weren't just dreams. Everyone in my dreams was real people, from Caliban to Tybalt, King Claudius to the Dark Lady. They all were real and they all lived in a world that was called Shakespeare, ironically enough.

My head was spinning. This was crazy, but yet it wasn't. It was impossible but yet somehow I had known all along that it was possible.

I could hear Will coming but I didn't budge from the spot I was sitting in. I could hear him climbing up into the tower but I didn't care. I would tell him to leave me alone, of course, but I would at least give him false hope by allowing him to make it all the way into the upper area of the tower. That would be payback for lying to me.

Will entered and I didn't even look up at him. He walked over to me. "There you are, Anne," he said, sounding genuinely relieved. "I thought that you might come here."

"Go away, Will," I said to him like he was an annoying younger sibling.

But Will kept walking towards me as if I hadn't said anything at all. I was getting furious again. Crying had tired me tremendously but I still retained enough energy to get mad.

Will sat down on the floor next to me and tried to wrap an arm around me but I shoved him away. He tried again and I growled this time when I pushed him away. Will took the hint and he didn't try to comfort me that way again. Instead, he sat there and all was silent for a while.

"I'm sorry, Anne," Will spoke into the silence without warning. "I am terribly sorry. I know that I lied to you but—"

"I don't care why you did it," I said to him, cutting him off. I didn't want to hear anymore. If Will knew what was best for him, he would leave me alone right now. "You lied to me, Will, and if I were you, I would go away."

"Anne," Will pleaded. He was so persistent, which was one of the attributes that I had liked about him during our relationship. Perhaps that hadn't been a lie but maybe it had. I didn't know because I didn't know Will at all. "I did it to protect you. And I didn't want you to find out this way."

I finally looked at him. He was so handsome and I took a quick trip back down memory lane to the first time that I had ever laid eyes on his pretty face. Staring at him now was like meeting him for the first time all over again and I was beginning to fall in love with him a second time. But no, I must not do that. I had to stay strong, which wasn't one of my best traits but it would be from here on out. Will had deceived me and we could no longer be together because of it.

"Trust me", he had said throughout our relationship. Each and every time he said those words, I felt like I could honestly trust him. But it turned out that I couldn't trust him at all. For the boy I had thought could never lie, he had been a master at such an art. No wonder Will and Caliban had been friends as well. Both of them were slippery and deceptive.

"Well, it's too late for that now, isn't it?" I asked him rhetorically.

"I'm sorry," Will repeated. "I didn't think . . . I didn't think that you would believe me. Before today, all of this would have seemed so unreal to you. You never would have dated me if you knew that I was from a different world."

I looked away from him. He was right and that was something that through my anger, I hadn't considered. What if Will had been honest with me from the beginning? What if he had told me all about him? Would I have thought that he was crazy? Would his physical attractiveness been enough for me to overlook the wild and insane stories that he would have told me just to be with him?

I didn't think so. I wouldn't have believed him and I probably would have never wanted to see him again. But I wouldn't tell Will that. I didn't want to show any chance that we could remain a couple after all of this. I could have forgiven him about missing one phone call, but I could not forgive him yet for a year of lies. Call me cruel but he had to suffer just as much as I was suffering right now. If we were meant to be together, then this trial would come to pass and we would be together; however, I just couldn't see that happening, especially at the moment.

"You don't know that," I told him. "You could have proven it to me. I'm sure like Caliban and the rest of your friends that came to visit me, you can perform magic as well."

Those words sounded so weird springing forth from my mouth; so foreign. Too much had taken place today and because of it, I found myself speaking so naturally about topics such as magic.

I didn't want to think about it much but I was now apart of the fantasy world that Will belonged to. By reading from the glowing manuscript of Henry IV, I was now somehow tied to the Seven Relics of which I knew nothing about except what had been revealed in my dreams. I didn't want to tell Will about the dreams that I had been having but I did realize something then—Will was the reason why I had known about the special manuscripts in the first place. He had been the one that had wanted to provoke me into reading them.

I rounded on him and slid across the floor away from him as though he was something vile—he had been sitting way too close anyways.

"This is all your fault!" I accused him before he could comment about my last statement.

"What are you talking about?" Will asked, baffled. He looked injured too and I didn't think that he liked it that I had moved away from him.

"You wanted me to read those manuscripts!" I cried. "You've always wanted me to read from the manuscripts! This was your intention all along, wasn't it? You came from the world of Shakespeare and found some poor, unsuspecting girl like myself, pretended to fall in love with her, all so she could read the manuscripts and become important in recovering those stupid Relics. You wanted someone else to do all of your dirty work for you, didn't you? You wanted all the glory of finding such precious artifacts and you were going to use me to help you."

Will shook his head. "No, you've got it all wrong," he said. "That wasn't the plan at all?"

I wasn't convinced but yet I asked, "Well then, what was the plan?"

Will opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. He hesitated, his mouth hanging open. Then, he closed his mouth, looked at me, and then looked away quickly.

"What's wrong?" I asked him in a biting, mocking tone of voice. It was so unlike me to act this way but I was extremely furious at Will right now. He was glad that I didn't punch his lights out. I was so mad that I could strike him. "Can't think of a good lie to tell this time?"

"I—I," Will stuttered. "I can't tell you why I wanted you to read from the manuscripts. It's—it's too complicated."

Will was hiding something from me and he was still lying to me. I couldn't believe it. He was an idiot. Why was it so hard for him to tell me the truth?

"Are you still trying to protect me?" I asked him. "Why are you continuing to lie to me even now when I am aware of things that I wasn't aware of before?"

"It doesn't matter," Will said. "I didn't know that one of the manuscripts was tied to the Relics. That was not the reason why I wanted you to read them. You have to believe me, Anne. Trust me, I am telling the truth. I didn't know."

I scoffed. "You expect me to believe you after a year's worth of lies. I don't think so. You didn't tell me the truth when you needed to. Why start now?"

"Because I don't wanna lose you!" Will exclaimed and he really started to show emotion then. He voice had raised an octave and had gotten louder by several decibels. He was frowning now, no longer trying to comfort me but intent on doing whatever it took to prevent me from saying the one line that I needed to say before the night was over. There was no Will and I anymore. "I love you, Anne. I truly do and even though we are young, I can say that with the utmost sincerity."

I scoffed again. "That could be another one of your lies."

Will was angry; I had finally succeeded in making him mad as well. Good. He could wallow in anger like I was currently doing and he could know what it felt like.

"You want the truth?" He questioned me and I shrugged casually as if I was bored with the conversation. "Okay then," Will took my shrug for a yes. "Let's start over." He held out his hand. He was close enough again that I could at least touch his hand but not close enough to smother me and make me feel guilty for the way that I was treating him. He deserved it, just as he had deserved me ignoring his phone calls after he had failed to call me last night even though I had waited up for him for hours. "My name is Will Stratford. It's nice to meet you, Anne."

I shoved his hand away too. "Very funny, smart aleck," I said in outrage.

"I am not trying to be funny," Will said and he was dead serious. "I want you to know the truth about me."

"Will, don't . . . ." I warned him but it was too late. He erupted into an entire spill about himself and I gave him some pleasure by listening. But I knew in my heart that after his story was over, it wouldn't change anything. He was 365 days too late.

"As I said, my name is Will Stratford. My name was at least one of the few truths that I had told you. I was born in the kingdom of England in the world of Shakespeare. England is one of the largest countries in Shakespeare, considering it is ruled by a Golden King and is one of the Three Thrones. There are three Golden Kings and they are called that because they rule the only three kingdoms that are present in Shakespeare, and those kingdoms are nicknamed the Three Thrones. In addition to England, Scotland and Denmark are the other two kingdoms.

"England is also one of the wealthiest states in all of Shakespeare. But not all of the citizens of England were rich. My family was among one of the poorest families. We were peasants who farmed the lands and made our money mostly through mercantilism after my father lost a fortune. My parents named me William after the founder of our world himself, William Shakespeare. My mother used to tell me when I was a small boy that she had visited a fortune teller prior to my birth and the fortune teller had told her that I was destined for great things, so my parents had also chosen the name William because such a name was profound in our society. And if I was really destined for great things, then they wanted my name to be profound as well and who better to name me after than the great William Shakespeare.

"For eight years, my family lived happily on our farm. We didn't have much money but we had enough to survive. Some of the happiest days of my life, in addition to spending time with you, of course, were days when I got to run around the farm and chase the chickens or ride the horses. Most of those memories still stand out inside of my head, as vivid as ever. I cherish those happy times because over the next few years, things weren't quite so happy for my family and I.

"My father passed away two weeks after my eighth birthday. Each year, he traveled with a family friend to the markets in a few of the free lands, such as Venice and Morocco, to trade our farm goods with buyers or even sell them to consumers. That year, when he was on his way back, bandits attacked his caravan and my father was murdered. The Sycorax had been too late in saving him."

Will paused and he looked on the verge of tears as he recalled this painful memory. He had never spoken of his family to me before and I never knew that his father had died. I had always thought, always imagined that they were alive and well and living here in our town with Will, but I never knew. I had never known the truth. Will had deliberately kept it from me.

That last thought drove the one that I had before it out of my mind. I wanted to comfort Will after hearing about his father and I was tempted to forget that I wanted to break up with him. He was so charming even when he didn't try to be and I had to resist his charm if I was to carry through with my plans, plans that I thought I was so resolute about, yet I kept wavering, unsure if this would be the right move or not for me.

"With my father gone, mother and I quickly lost the farm lands that we owned because we weren't able to work the lands like he could. I was too young and I wasn't strong enough and my mom was weak and sickly and heartbroken at my father's death. She wasn't the same after my father died. She stayed inside a lot and I was left to take trips to the market to buy food for us and I was only a child.

"We lost the farm within a year and we were forced to move in with some of my mom's relatives. Her sister and her husband had a big family, seven children, and it did my mother and me some good to live with them. I had fun playing with my cousins and mother started coming outdoors again and she was happier than I had seen her in a long time.

"But no matter how happy we were there, the untimely death of my father still haunted us. Mom wanted justice and for his killer to be caught. And I just wanted to be stronger than my father, strong enough to protect myself from my father's fate. I constantly told my mother and all who would hear that one day I would join the King's Men when I was ready to. I had met some of them as a boy, including Antonio who was a close friend of my uncle's, and I wanted to learn how to fight and perform magic like they could. I wanted to be strong.

"Then, something unexpected happened. When I was ten years old, I was discovered by Caliban, who was the leader of the swordsmen known as the Sycorax, as you now know. Caliban was interested in recruiting me to join the Sycorax at such a young age, where as with the King's Men, I would have had to wait until I was at least fifteen or sixteen years of age. I was impatient. I was impulsive and I left my family to join the Sycorax."

Will fell silent for a moment. I had never seen this side of him before and it was like I was getting to know him all over again. It was too soon though. Will had done me wrong and it was too soon for me to start falling in love with him all over again. I couldn't . . . Not after what he did. My mind was telling me yes, but my heart was telling me no. I had always heard that people should follow their hearts when making important decisions and that was what I intended to do—follow my heart.

"Over the course of the next few years, up until this point in my life, I rarely saw my mother. I left our new home in England and traveled throughout the free lands, including an unnamed island where Caliban claimed that he came from, training with the Sycorax and learning all that I could from Caliban, who was my master. I entered the Sycorax as a novice, the lowest ranking, and I got to train alongside many people who were older than me. Caliban even boasted that I was the youngest member of the Sycorax ever, which boosted my ego. I had many friends. Hamlet and Romeo were my closest friends and I encouraged them to join the Sycorax as well on a regular basis but to no avail."

I thought about something then. I was definitely interested in Will's story, there was no way that I could lie about that. But I had to feign a disinterest for my sake because I didn't want him finally telling me the truth to be the deciding factor in whether or not I broke up with him. Nonetheless, I couldn't stop myself from asking him a question that I was suddenly dying to know the answer to.

"Is that why you were so good at portraying Hamlet in the school play last year?" I wondered. "Because you knew him?"

Will nodded and smiled. "Yes, that was why."

"Are you sure you had never read the play before?"

Will nodded again. "I am positive," he answered. "What you call plays that were written by Shakespeare, are actual manuscripts that many people in my world hold sacred. Only a few people have ever read from them since the times of Shakespeare and many believe that the purpose of the manuscripts were to predict the future of a generation to come and the fate of the world of Shakespeare. We have reached the generation that Shakespeare had wrote about centuries ago, as you know that we have stories about Hamlet, of course, as well as Othello, who you just met, and even Caliban. Many of my friends or associates are aware that tales have been written about them and most of them try to stay away from the manuscripts because of the sudden overwhelming urge to read their futures that they feel whenever they are in the presence of one of manuscripts. That was why Antonio brought them to the human world."

I considered what he had just told me for a moment. The manuscripts were fascinating subject to discuss.

"So, the plays—I mean, manuscripts—that I have grew up reading and have come to love, will come to pass in the world of Shakespeare soon?" I questioned Will. I couldn't imagine the real Othello murdering Desdemona and taking his own life after being deceived by Iago. He had seemed too wise to be connived by someone, too perceptive. I couldn't imagine Antonio becoming mixed up in a trial against Shylock with a pound of flesh being involved when Antonio was living in my world.

Will shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not. No one is completely sure. Caliban believes that they will come true if we don't recover the Relics—that was what he had used to convince me to come with him and take you back to the world of Shakespeare, something that I was completely against—but Prospero doesn't think that the manuscripts will come true. He says that everyone is in charge of his or her own destiny and because we have choices, the manuscripts cannot accurately predict the future, even if they were written by Shakespeare."

I agreed with Prospero. Everyone was in charge of his or her own destiny. I was in charge of my own destiny, which meant that Caliban nor Will nor Othello nor anyone else could force me to go to the world of Shakespeare. I was in charge of my own destiny and I would go with them only if I wanted to.

"Then, why did you want me to read from the manuscripts?" I asked him, thinking about that suddenly. "It doesn't make sense. If you wanted to know the futures of certain people I could have told you, as I am an expert in Shakespeare. You know that."

"I can't tell you why I wanted you to read from the manuscripts," Will said after a brief hesitation, which made me instantly furious with him once more.

"Get out of here!" I yelled suddenly. "Leave me alone! If you can't tell me the truth then . . . ." My lips were trembling as I yelled. " . . . . Then go away!"

"Anne," Will began softly. "There are some things that I just can't tell you yet. Please, just—"

"What made you come to my world, Will?" I cut him off and asked him to catch him off guard.

Will sighed. "I can't," he said sadly. "I can't tell you that either. It is all connected. Why I'm here and why I wanted you read from the manuscripts."

I didn't say anything for a long time as I tried to figure it all out and come up with the truth that Will was denying me. I couldn't come up with the truth though. The only thing I had to go by was what Will had just told me. The reason why he was here was connected to why he wanted me to read from the sacred manuscripts.

"You knew that one of the manuscripts were tied to the Relics!" I screamed at him, accusing him again. "Tell me the truth Will! Please . . . ."

"I did not know," Will said. "And that is the truth, Anne, I promise."

My lips continued to tremble and an explosion of words sprang out of me. "Well, I guess that we are done," I told Will. I was crying again. Here comes the part that I wished I could have avoided. Here come the words that I wished I couldn't say but needed to say nonetheless. "For a year, you lied to me Will. And I feel like I don't even know you, so I think that it is best . . . I think that we should not see each other anymore."

I was surprised at how easily I was able to say that. Raging emotions were sometimes a brilliant catalyst.

Will hung his head for a second and then, he looked into my tear-filled face, with a pleading look. Tears of his own started to fall slowly. He had said that he wanted to be strong, yet he wasn't strong enough to not cry when I broke up with him.

"Anne, you don't mean that," he tried to convince me, tried to tell me what I didn't mean. But he was wrong. I was in charge of my own destiny. I was faced with a choice and I choose the best one rationally.

I nodded. "Yes, I do mean just that. We are done, Will. I can't be with someone who constantly tells me to trust him but then he constantly tells me lies. I'm sorry but we are finished so please leave me alone. I have nothing more to say to you right now."

"Anne . . . ."

"GO! Damn it, Will, just go!"

Silence. I could hear my ragged breathing and small sobs. I couldn't hear Will at all. He was deathly still, terribly stunned, I was sure, at my stinging words and at our breakup. He didn't move a muscle for a few minutes. I nearly yelled at him to leave again but I was crying way too hard.

Then, slowly, Will climbed to his feet. I looked up at him. He wiped the tears from his face and didn't say a word as he turned and walked away, heading to climb down the clock tower.

Will left me alone and I remained sitting there for at least an hour straight, balling my eyes out. I tried to be tough but breaking up with the best boyfriend that I had ever had was difficult and it hurt worse than him lying to me.

My heart was broken and that was only simply put. It was broken so that it would take a lot of time before it was mended ever again.

Darkness swallowed me up whole inside of the clock tower and I allowed it to claim me. Path lamps were on outside in the schoolyard but they didn't provide too much light in the clock tower, which was fine by me. I welcomed the darkness. The shadows that danced along the wall were perfect reflections of how I was feeling.

I stopped crying when my tear ducts could no longer create tears. Alice was going to murder me when I got home. It was late, not too late, but I didn't have my watch with me to tell what time it was and I couldn't see the giant clock face of the clock tower because I was inside of it. When I got home, I would explain to her what had happened between Will and I only—and not about the rest of my strange day—and she would ground me. I would accept my punishment without argument. Alice would be disappointed that I missed sibling night but I would make it up to her and Melody, who I had invited out tonight as well.

I made the conscious decision then. I was not going to the world of Shakespeare. I was not going with Othello and the King's Men and I was definitely not going with either Will or Caliban. I did not care about the Seven Relics. If the King's Men and the Sycorax were true warriors, then they should be able to defeat the Dark Lady and her followers without the aid of magical artifacts.

It was time to go home. I was still surprised that no one had come after me when I had run away except for Will. Maybe they were all still gathered outside of my apartment awaiting my return. I wondered if I would be able to make it home at all.

I stood up and stretched. It felt so good to stretch my legs after I had been sitting down for so long. I yawned—crying always made me so sleepy—and peered at the exit through the gloom that surrounded me.

I was startled by what I saw standing there in the doorway. At first, all I could see was flaming red hair and then I could see the beautiful face of the woman I had seen at my apartment before Will and Caliban had showed up.

She was motioning for me to follow her and I was immediately captivated and intrigued. It was like she had me under an enchantment, manipulating my mind to her will. What was this strange attraction that I felt? Who was this woman and what did she want? After the day that I had, I knew that she was just as real as the Shakespearean characters were.

After motioning for me to come with her, she descended from the apex of the clock tower. I followed her like a dog on a leash, no longer concerned with going home to face the wrath of my sister. Matter of fact, I wasn't concerned about anything at the moment except for following this mystical and perplexing woman and learning what she wanted with me.

She had disappeared by the time I had climbed down the broken stairs. I stepped through the exit and was out in the courtyard of the school. The pale moonlight washed over me and washed away the darkness that had haunted me inside of my safe haven, my fortress of solitude. I saw the woman up ahead. She was standing in the center of the courtyard, staring at me. She seemed to float there, hovering in mid-air and I stared back at her.

Then, she spoke.

"Come, my child," she said to me. "We have much to discuss."

I complied with her offer without thinking. I walked towards the stranger, attracted to her like metal to magnet. I never hesitated, never stopped to think what I was doing. With her, I wasn't in charge of my own destiny and I didn't have any other choice but to go to her. My free will had been snatched from me and I didn't know how. I didn't see the woman perform a spell on me or anything like that. I had seen enough about magic from Caliban's botched kidnapping to know that most spells required a rising of a hand and the woman hadn't raised her hand had she?

I wasn't sure and to be honest with you, I really didn't care. My primary focus was complying with the woman's command.

Then, when I was close enough to her, she spoke again.

"I have beckoned you to me, my dear child, because you are to accompany me to see my sister. She has a . . . a friend who requires your help. He cannot leave his home due to certain circumstances, but my sister shall take you to him so that he can speak to you directly."

"Of course," I said without actually thinking the words.

The woman smiled. She had a very dazzling smile.

"Who are you?" I asked her, blown away by her smile. I was surprised because I had actually thought of those words before I spoke.

"That is irrelevant," the woman said as though she was trying to convince me otherwise. "Just know that I am a friend."

I nodded in concordance.

"Anne!" Someone cried suddenly, shattering the connection that the woman had with me. I looked around to see who had called me and the woman was staring over my shoulder looking livid.

_SWOOOSH!_

An arrow flew over my head, so close to my hair that I could feel the breeze radiating from it as it passed. The arrow was aimed straight at the chest of the red-haired woman; however, it failed to reach its destination, thwarted by an invisible shield.

The woman no longer looked beautiful. Now, she looked menacing and perhaps evil.

Angered, the woman unleashed a frenzy of attack spells. Jets of violent light zipped past me, from crimson red to mercurial silver. Panicking, I hit the deck, not wishing to be struck by a jinx, all the while muttering in the grass, "Not again!" I had enough of magical combat for one day.

"Anne!" Someone called again. It was a male's voice but it sounded small and slightly squeaky. I didn't raise my head to see who had yelled my name. If I was going to be hit by a curse, then I didn't want to see it coming. If I were to die, I would die blindly. It would almost be like dying in my sleep peacefully.

"Back you hag!" Another voice screamed and I nearly perked up. That voice sounded familiar like the girl's who had boldly stood up to Caliban before Othello had rescued me.

"This does not concern the King's Men!" The woman retorted. "This is between my sister and Anne Hathaway!"

She knew my name too. How did she know my name? What was going on? Had the beautiful woman come to take me to Shakespeare to find the Seven Relics as well? Maybe the Relics were really important to the future of Shakespeare—everyone seemed to really want to recover them again.

"You will not claim her witch!" The girl whose voice was familiar shot back. "Anne Hathaway will not be subjugated to your wicked deception!"

The pretty woman screamed suddenly in outrage, a high and piercing shriek that could most definitely shatter glass. I covered my ears and then, the sound disappeared altogether.

I remained where I was and waited. I didn't know if it was safe to lift my head. Then, without warning, as I uncovered my ears, I received a tap on my shoulder. I jumped and someone chuckled.

"Puck, don't laugh," the familiar girl's voice chided the fairy. "It's not funny. You startled her."

I looked up finally into the faces of Puck and his female companion. Puck was returning his bow to a sheath on his back. He was grinning, his cheeks rosy, while his companion was looking concerned.

"Anne Hathaway? Are you okay?" The girl asked me.

"Yeah," I replied, looking around. No one else was there. The three of us were alone in the school's courtyard. "Is she—" I started to ask.

The girl nodded. "Yes, she is gone. I think that we scared her off."

The girl held out a hand then and I took it. She helped me up to my feet and I stared at her.

"You were at my apartment complex?" I asked more so than made a statement.

The girl nodded. "Yes, I was," she told me. "The name is Rosalind by the way," she introduced herself. So, she was Rosalind . . . . Rosalind had always been one of my favorite Shakespearean heroines and I was actually honored to meet her. She pointed at Puck. "And this silly fellow is named—"

"—Puck," I said and the two of them looked at me confused. "Will told me," I quickly added the lie before changing the subject. "Who was that woman?" I asked them because they seemed to have made acquaintances with her before. "She was very . . . alluring, to say the least."

"That was Lachesis," Rosalind informed me with disgust clearly present in her voice.

"Lachesis?" I echoed and I knew enough about Greek Mythology to know that Lachesis was one of the Moirae, or the Three Fates. "As in Lachesis from Greek Mythology?"

Rosalind and Puck looked more confused now than when I had known Puck's name prior to a formal introduction.

"Greek Mythology?" Rosalind said.

"Yeah, Greek Mythology," I repeated as if it should have been obvious. But then, again, I had forgotten that Puck and Rosalind weren't from around here. "The former Pagan and polytheistic religion of Ancient Greece."

"Greece?" Puck said, cottoning on. "The military-led city-state within the free lands of Shakespeare?"

I was dumbfounded. I had no idea what he was talking about but I nodded my head anyways. "Yeah, exactly," I said. "Well, in Greek Mythology, Lachesis is said to decide how long each person on Earth is allowed to live by measuring the thread of life with her rod. She also had powers of persuasion and can choose a person's destiny after the thread of life is measured."

"Well, I don't know anything about Greek Mythology," Rosalind said. "But this Lachesis you speak of sounds similar to the woman you just met as far as being manipulative and controlling the fates of women and men. Lachesis is one of the Three Witches, three demi-goddesses who serve the goddess and sorceress, Hecate."

I nodded in comprehension. I knew much about Hecate and the Three Witches because they were prominent figures from Shakespeare's play entitled _Macbeth_.

"What did she want with me?" I wondered aloud, not really asking Puck or Rosalind because I assumed that they wouldn't be able to tell me the answer anyways. "Did she want me to help her and her sister"—I remembered then that Lachesis had mentioned something about a sister—"recover the lost Relics too?"

Puck was willing to try and answer the question for me. He bowed low and then quickly straightened up the moment that Rosalind and I started snickering at him. It amazed me how in sync Rosalind and I was and how well we got along even though we didn't know each other yet. I guess I had always liked Rosalind's character because she was really the only one who I could relate to, although Beatrice was probably a close second. When it came to displaying emotions, I was a very complex individual, just like Rosalind. I also admired Rosalind for her boldness and imagination and the genuine love that she feels for Orlando, the love she had been waiting on her entire life. And Will had had been the final piece that I had been missing for a long time. He was the Orlando to my Rosalind but that was no more.

I felt a pang of hurt and regret in my heart but I ignored it. I was well aware of what I had gotten myself into before I had gotten myself into it. I knew that it was going to hurt and that there would be some regret, but I had to ignore those emotions and stay strong. Whenever I felt this way in the future, I would remember that Will had lied to me and it would be enough to pacify those feelings that I didn't want present in me at all. I was aware that those feelings would remain there like a dark cloud for a very long time because I was human and it was in my very nature. I wished that wasn't so but it was and I would have to live with it.

"No, she didn't," Puck replied after the snickers subsided. "She more than likely wanted you for other reasons."

"That's right," Rosalind agreed. "The Three Witches do not care about the Seven Relics. They only care about meddling in the affairs of others." She then cocked her head in thought—I sometimes did that when I was thinking hard about something. "But I have to wonder why would they be interested in you, Anne Hathaway. Forgive me, for I do not mean this in a bad way, but you are human and do not know much about our world."

I wished what she said was true but I knew far more about the world of Shakespeare than Rosalind could ever imagine, and I had never been there before. And if I had my way, I would never go there.

"No offense taken," I assured Rosalind with a smile. How could I be mean and disrespect my idol anyways? "But I'm glad that you two were here," I added, speaking proudly of Rosalind and Puck. Puck beamed. "For a second there, she almost got me to come with her."

Puck grinned. "You think that Othello and Antonio would take the chance to leave you unintended now that you know that you are to help us with the Relics?" he asked rhetorically and my insides groaned. I was so sick and tired of hearing about the stupid Relics. "He had Rosalind and I follow you here to keep an eye on you until you decided to return to us. But we didn't count on Lachesis showing her ugly face around here."

_Ugly? _My mind echoed. Even though Lachesis was not exactly a good person, I still thought that she was pretty.

"Othello is really interested in you, Anne Hathaway," Puck added.

"Please just call me, Anne," I told both of them, growing weary with the whole first and last name thing as well. "And why is Othello so interested in me?" I wondered. "Is it because I read from a manuscript that connects me to the Seven Relics, which doesn't make a bit of sense by the way?"

"Yes," Rosalind told me truthfully. "Like all of us, he is curious to know why you happened to read the one manuscript that had been magically bound to the Seven Relics? You are a human girl after all and you have never seen our world. It's almost like fate. A destiny awaits you, Anne, and we want to help you achieve that destiny."

"Fate, prophecy, destiny," Puck said before I could begin to say anything. Rosalind's words had touched me in a way that I didn't know could happen right now when I was completely against anything that had to do with the world of Shakespeare and the Seven Relics. "It's all the same thing. Maybe this has to do with the Prophecy of the Sycorax," he suggested. "That Prophecy is so complex, so convoluted, that it might be possible."

I looked at the two of them confused as Rosalind mused with a, "Perhaps."

"What's the Prophecy of the Sycorax?" I questioned them, recalling that the Sycorax was the name of the group of swordsmen that Caliban was the leader of.

"A prophecy that was made many years ago by an unnamed seer," Puck responded. He talked as if he was very knowledgeable when it pertained to the Prophecy of the Sycorax; however, he hadn't told me anything yet that could back this up.

"Do you want the short version or the long version?" Rosalind interrupted by asking me a question. "Because if you leave it up to Puck to tell it, you will be getting the _very_ long version."

Puck chuckled, but it wasn't his usual merry laugh. It was a very sarcastic laugh. "Do you wish to tell her about the prophecy then?" he asked Rosalind.

"I would give her a better and easy to comprehend version than you would, Puck," Rosalind told him. "However, our job is not to tell Anne about the Prophecy of the Sycorax. Our job is to escort her to the Merchant's Library"—she looked at me with a pleading look—"if you are willing to come with us, of course."

At last, someone had finally got it right. Instead of telling Puck that I was going with them to Merchant's Library, Rosalind offered me a choice of whether or not I wanted to go with them. I already knew what my answer was—although meeting Rosalind was slowly making me second guess my resolution—but it made me feel better to know that not all people from Shakespeare was as demanding as Caliban and Othello.

"I think that I am going to go home," I announced to Rosalind and Puck. "I have had enough adventure for one day and I am in enough trouble already. I'm sorry that I cannot help you. I don't think that I am the right girl for the job."

There, I said it. It had been easier than I thought, just like with breaking up with Will. Again, I felt a pang of hurt.

"But you have to help us," Puck insisted, disappointed. "We will never be able to recover all of the Relics without your help."

"But how can I help when I don't even know where to begin to look for the Relics?" I asked him a question I should have asked a while ago. "This whole thing is absurd. Just because I read from a stupid manuscript doesn't mean that I know how to find the Seven Relics."

"If you come with us back to our world you will know," Puck told me.

"I doubt that all of the answers will magically appear in my head," I said, sighing. "I'm sorry. I just can't do it. I am a normal girl, a normal _human _girl. I don't have any extraordinary talents like you guys. I can't use a sword and I definitely can't use magic."

"Oh, but you can learn," Puck said with a grin.

I frowned. He just never seemed to get the hint. I didn't want to go to the world of Shakespeare. I've had enough of it in all of my readings of Shakespearean plays and from my dreams about the Dark Lady. After all, fantasy was supposed to remain a fantasy. It was never supposed to become real.

"As enticing as that offer is, I will have to decline it," I said, still fighting and trying to keep Puck from convincing me to do the very thing that I did not want to do.

Puck looked forlorn and as though he was about to give up with attempting to persuade me. He looked to Rosalind for help and if she tried to convince me, I didn't think that I would be able to reject her.

"Look, Anne," Rosalind began slowly and I knew it was coming. "Can you hold off your final decision until you have come to the Merchant's Library. Othello and Antonio have much to discuss with you and I think that it would be worth your time if you would at least hear what they have to tell you. Then, if you still don't want to go to Shakespeare with us, we will understand and then, you can return home. But if you like what you hear and if you are interested in fulfilling your destiny, then you will be more than welcomed to go with us to a place that no human from your world has been before."

There it was. How could I refuse that? I mean, I could refuse it but the way Rosalind had put it made it extremely difficult to do so.

I thought about it for a long while. I was faced with two choices. All I had to do was go with Puck and Rosalind to the Merchant's Library and listen to what Othello and Antonio had to say. It was an easy enough task except for I knew that after my conversation with them, I would be more than likely to go along with their plans for me. Or I could just go home and be with Alice and never be bothered by people from Shakespeare ever again, except for whenever I had to see Will at school. I regretted having some classes with him now that we had broken up.

But how could I turn down a trip to the world of Shakespeare now that I knew it existed. All that I had ever read, had ever come to love with a huge portion of my heart had been prophecies, predicting the future of characters that would come to live during my generation. Now the plays of William Shakespeare had come to life and I had the chance to live a dream and I was turning it down. What was wrong with me? Was I really going to deny myself a once in a lifetime opportunity all because I was mad at Will and mad that I hadn't been given a choice in the matter until now?

I sighed. Was I really going to do this? Not yet, I told myself. I would hold out until I heard what Othello and Antonio had to say.

"Okay," I agreed with Rosalind's proposition. "I will go to the Merchant's Library to speak with Antonio and Othello. Then, I will make my ultimate decision."

Rosalind smiled, a little too smugly. "That was all we could ask for."

"So, how are we going to get back?" I asked. "Surely, we are not going to walk and I am not sure if you guys would like riding the bus." I noticed that Rosalind turned a slight shade of green when I mentioned riding the bus, which confirmed what I said to be truth.

Puck was grinning, his smile full of mischief. "I have an idea, a way for us to travel quickly back to the Merchant's Library."

Rosalind groaned and she seemed to catch on to what he was talking about. I, on the other hand was clueless. "Oh no, we are not going to do that."

Puck nodded feverishly. "We should. It will give Anne a taste of what it would be like to use magic."

I looked back and forth between the two of them wondering what they were arguing about. Puck had concocted some grand scheme of travel that allowed me to use magic. What could that be? Knowing Puck's character from _A Midsummer's Night Dream_, his plan couldn't be good.

"No, I am not doing it," Rosalind said firmly, crossing her arms.

"Do what?" I asked, dreading the answer to my question.

"Fly," Puck answered. "I think we should fly."


	8. Chapter Eight

**Chapter Eight**

"Are you _insane_?" Rosalind and I asked Puck simultaneously and with the same inflection of incredulity in our voices.

"I cannot fly!" I added, appalled by the thought and the fact that Puck would suggest something like that in the first place. "I don't have wings like you."

At the same time, Rosalind was adding her own words as well, as they combined with mine to create noise that Puck could not comprehend. "We are not flying back to the Merchant's Library! And besides, I am allergic to fairy dust anyways."

Puck just laughed as I looked at Rosalind. "What's fairy dust?" I asked her.

"Magical dust that can help non-fairy beings achieve flight!" Puck exclaimed. He was now clutching a tiny pouch in his hands. A light was coming from within, a light that was similar to the color of the light from the glowing manuscripts. I think that I'll refer to the manuscripts by their proper name—prophecies—from this point forward.

"Like pixie dust," I presumed, thinking about the books I have read or movies I have seen.

Puck looked suddenly offended, "No, not at all," he corrected me. "Fairy dust is very different than pixie dust and fairies also do not associate ourselves with those short, pestering creatures known as pixies."

Being small in stature himself, Puck didn't have a right to putdown pixies; however, I didn't call him out on it because I barely knew him and I could sense the strong dislike in his voice when he spoke about pixies. Apparently, pixies existed in the world of Shakespeare as well and fairies didn't like them.

"We are not flying!" Rosalind cried. "We can walk to Antonio's. It is not too far from here."

"Yeah, we _can_ walk," Puck said, and at first I thought he was agreeing with Rosalind, but then I could see the grin that was spreading broadly across his face again. "But it'll take a while. Or we can fly and get there very quickly."

Rosalind folded her arms across her chest; she looked cross. "I am not flying!" she emphasized for the hundredth time.

"Come on, Rosalind," Puck whined. "You still owe me for my earlier heroics."

Rosalind scoffed. "I wouldn't quite call what you did heroics and I don't owe you anymore. I allowed you to have your fun. You got to tour the school, remember?"

"Tour the school?" I wondered. The conversation was getting way off topic way too fast and I was losing pace. I fought to keep up and questions were my only weapon. I mean, how had we gone from flying to pixies and fairies to heroics at some school?

"Long story there," Rosalind said.

"We were looking for you earlier at your high school," Puck informed me since Rosalind didn't seem too inclined to answer my question. "I got to tour your high school after I tricked the lady in the office to give me your address. I cast a mind-controlling charm on her, you see, and it was amazing! And so was your school. What are those things called with those strange locks with numbers on them?"

"Whoa!" I exclaimed. "Hold on! Back up! You said you went to my school earlier and got my address from the office? You guys were spying on me?"

Puck blushed. "Not really spying on you," he said. "We were just trying to find where you lived so we could tell you about your destiny. It was Othello's orders. He's our commanding officer. You can take it up with him when we get back to the Merchant's Library if you are angry about it."

"I am not angry about it," I said. "And they are called lockers."

"Lockers," Puck repeated. "What are the purpose of lockers in a school?"

"To stuff kids who are smaller than you in them," I joked.

But Puck didn't think I was joking; he thought I was serious. His eyes went wide with horror. "Are they torture chambers?" he wondered, appalled. "To send children who are bad?"

I shook my head and laughed. "No, they are not torture chambers and I was only kidding. Lockers are not used for that purpose, although bullies like to use them for that from time to time."

Puck relaxed a bit. "So, what are they _really_ used for then?"

"For storage," I replied. "You know for school books and notebooks?" I paused and Puck nodded. Something crossed my mind at that point and I was curious. "Since you two are from Shakespeare, you all don't know much about my world, yet you speak the same type of English that I do. I had expected you to speak in an earlier dialect, like in the prophecies that I have read."

Puck looked confused, where as Rosalind looked interested in our conversation again. As long as it didn't concern flying, she was okay. "What did you just say?" she questioned me, unfolding her arms.

"I said that lockers are for storage—" I began.

"No, after that," Rosalind cut me off.

"That you two don't know much about my world and—"

"After that," Rosalind replicated.

"Are you talking about the speaking English part or the part about earlier dialects?"

"Neither. I'm talking about the prophecies part."

"Oh," I finally understood what she was talking about. "What about that part?"

Rosalind looked exasperated. "You have read the prophecies before?"

Maybe I had made a mistake by referring to the manuscripts as prophecies . . . .

I nodded. "Yes, I have," I told her. "And no, I will not tell you what I've read about you, if that's what you're asking."

Rosalind shook her head, even though she looked a tad bit curious. "I don't want you to tell me about my future," she admitted and I was glad she didn't try to coerce me into telling her about her future even if her future had a happy ending unlike other Shakespearean characters. "I'm just . . . astounded. I wasn't aware that you had read from more than one of the prophecies. You are not Shakespearean," she reminded me. "How is that possible."

I took a moment to explain to her and Puck about how in my world the prophecies that were penned by Shakespeare over four hundred years ago—which is over three million years ago in Shakespearean time—are believed to be plays. It didn't take long for them to grasp that concept and then it was there turn to explain something to me.

I repeated my question that I asked before Rosalind had asked me about the prophecies.

Puck chuckled at the question. "The answer to your question is pretty hilarious," he explained to me without explaining anything to me at all. I looked to Rosalind for help.

"There is a committee in Shakespeare that is funded by the Three Thrones," Rosalind explained as Puck continued to laugh. "This committee, and I can't remember what it is called, venture to your world from time to time to observe the humans here. Over the course of many years, your language has evolved and changed and so has our language, to mimic the language of English speaking humans, of course, since English was the language of William Shakespeare and remains the official language of Shakespeare today."

"You speak more like an American than a British person, which I would have expected you to speak more British English," I pointed out.

"Beg your pardon," Rosalind was confused again.

"Never mind," I said, weary of explanations. "So if your language evolved, why not your clothing?" I couldn't help but to smile at my ingenious inquiry.

Puck looked appalled again. "Are you making fun of our clothes?"

"No, not at all," I continued to smile. "I'm just curious, that's all." The two of them were dressed like warriors from the Middle Ages in leather, chain mail, and armor. They looked very out of place in my world, of course. If we happened to run into anyone on our walk to the Merchant's Library, then it would take a lot of explaining to stop people from gawking and laughing at Puck and Rosalind. Too bad it wasn't close to Halloween. That would have been a good excuse for such getups.

"The Golden Kings, rulers of the Three Thrones, decided a long time ago that only the language would change," Rosalind told me. "All of the Golden Kings throughout history have been appalled by some of the fashion trends that humans have invented. They were comfortable with our style of clothing and I have to say that I agree with them. I tried to wear an outfit that you and other girls at your high school would wear and it felt strange and didn't provide any protection from melee damage. Not only that but the shoes were difficult to walk in and people laughed at me for trying. It was quite embarrassing."

I snickered. "You had on high heels?" I asked in disbelief.

Rosalind nodded. "I guess if that's what you call those disasters waiting to happen, then yes."

"I don't wear shoes like that," I pointed out, lifting up one of my legs to show off my slip ons. "I'm a simple girl. I like shoes that make me feel dainty."

"You wouldn't like these then," Rosalind smirked and showed me her armored boots. "I don't feel dainty but I know that one good kick can cripple an oncoming assailant."

I laughed. Rosalind was so tough. I longed to be more like her. I was too weak, even for girl standards. True, I had showed some strength today by breaking up with Will but that was because of emotions. Emotions, such as anger, had helped me to become tough for a while, where as Rosalind could be tough without those emotions. She had a certain swagger about her; a swagger that I could never get even if I wore armored shoes.

"Um, excuse me," Puck intervened in the girlie conversation between Rosalind and me. Like any other guy, he was bored when the topic switched to fashion. "But we must get going." He tapped his left wrist as though he was wearing an imaginary watch. "Time is wasting and we're just standing here chatting."

"You're right," Rosalind agreed. "Let's go."

And she started walking across the courtyard.

"I guess we're walking," I said, starting to move after her.

I took two steps and felt suddenly faint. Then, I had the desire to sneeze. And so I did. Once, twice, three times. Wait for it before you say bless you . . . Four times. Five. And I stopped sneezing suddenly. There was something in the air that I was allergic to and it had hit me without warning. I needed to take some extra cetrizine or something when I got home. Whenever I got home.

And then, I heard Puck chuckling behind me. I was about to turn around and shush him when I noticed that I couldn't turn around because my feet weren't touching the ground. What the—My feet weren't touching the ground!

I screamed. I was floating in mid-air, hovering inches above the ground as though someone wearing Caliban's nifty cloak was holding me over his or her shoulder. But I was rising slowly. I was flying . . . .

Puck was cackling like a mad man then and I realized that he had sprinkled some of his fairy dust on me. I couldn't believe it. That little trickster had sprinkled fairy dust on me! That's why I had sneezed. I was allergic to the dust like Rosalind was.

Rosalind stopped and spun around. "Puck? Why are you laugh—" she paused once she saw me floating. "Puck? What have you done this time? This is not funny! I am going to kill you!"

Rosalind stormed back towards to two of us and I kept screaming my head off. "Help me!" I yelled. "Rosalind! Do something!"

"She can't," Puck said grinning. "It'll take several hours before the effects of the dust wear off."

"Several hours!" I cried in outrage.

"Several hours or there is an incantation that I can recite that can reverse the effects," Puck said. "Rosalind here doesn't know that incantation but I do because I'm a fairy." He grinned proudly.

I tried to reach for him but it was no use. "If I could grab you, I would hurt you, you sneaky—"

But the rest of my words were drowned out by Puck's roars of laughter, which I supposed was a good thing because the words I spat at him weren't pleasant ones. And still, I rose higher and higher . . . .

"Stop laughing and tell me how to stop going up!" I screamed loud enough for him to hear me over his laughter. "Before I end up in the freaking stratosphere!"

"It's simple really," Puck instructed me. "All you have to do is force yourself downwards and you shall go down."

"Force myself downwards?! How in the heck do I do that?"

"That's it then!" Puck was glad that I was getting it although I wasn't getting it at all. Couldn't he see that I was still going up? Was he blind? "Just do it!"

"Just do it? What are you? A salesman for Nike or something?" I muttered, trying to take a steady breath. "All right," I said. "Just do it!"

I threw all of my thoughts and energy into forcing myself downwards. I didn't know how to do it exactly but I tried to fight against the magic that was causing me to ascend and push myself down into descent. It was like fighting against a rushing tide of water. Instead of surfacing though, I was allowing myself to drown almost.

Then, I was sinking, returning to the ground. I did it. I landed on the path and rushed towards Puck. "When I get my hands on you—" But then, I was floating again. I had broken my concentration as I tried to break Puck in half and the magical dust had swept me up into invisible hands once more. It was a tough fight to remain grounded, as the dust didn't want me to stay on the ground for way too long.

"Reverse it, Puck!" Rosalind yelled at him.

Puck shook his head fiercely. "No, I refuse to." Rosalind glared at him and he held up the pouch in front of her face. "Now, we have no other choice but to fly."

"I'm telling Othello about this one," Rosalind promised him. "You know that we are not supposed to do this. What if we are seen by humans?"

"We won't be," Puck assured her. "Stop worrying and take some fairy dust." He shook the bag. "Or do you want me to sprinkle it for you?"

Rosalind growled. "Give me the bag!"

Puck held it out even more and Rosalind snatched the pouch from him. "Take just a handful," Puck reminded her.

Rosalind grabbed a handful of dust and threw it over herself. She sneezed as much as I did and soon she was joining me in flight.

Puck smiled happily and the pouch of fairy dust disappeared from his hands. "You two fly so well," he joked.

"Oh, you don't know how much I hate you right now!" Rosalind yelled, working to keep herself steady beside me.

Puck stretched his gossamer wings and when he took to the skies, we were ready to go.

"Now what?" I asked him.

"Now we fly!" Puck chuckled and zoomed circles around Rosalind and I, zipping around and between us several times in a matter of seconds. He was showing off, proud to be the expert here. If I could have reached him, I would have smacked him.

"What do we need to do _now_?" I repeated my question with more emphasis and to get Puck's attention. He was making me dizzy by circling me like that.

"The opposite of going down," Puck said, coming to a halt directly in front of me. He grinned so wide that I could count all of his teeth if I wanted to before he zoomed upwards like a space shuttle taking off. "You flyyyyyyyyyyy!"

I focused on doing the opposite of what I did to land earlier. It was really like swimming now. I made myself pretend that I was surfacing from underwater and I started to rise faster, higher and higher, the ground falling away from me at an alarming rate.

I looked down and knew at once that I shouldn't have. "Oh my God! Oh my God!" I kept repeating, hyperventilating and panicking.

Puck was still laughing. Did he ever stop being so merry? "Now, straighten yourself out and glide through the air," he continued to feed me instructions.

I closed my eyes so I wouldn't see the ground far below. Before they were shut all the way I could see that I was higher than the clock tower even, more than thirty feet up in the air.

I concentrated and found myself twisting and turning, my body moving into a lying stomach-down position the more I willed it to. Then, I was flying forward and not upwards.

"Open your eyes," Puck whispered in my ear, so close to me.

"No," I refused.

"Do it or you'll regret it," he told me. "Don't worry, you won't fall."

I took a deep breath and opened my eyes, confident that the fairy dust would at least keep me afloat if I couldn't. The view was . . . well, it was breathtakingly beautiful.

I was high up and nearly among the clouds now. The school was far below me and looked like a model set I had just built with pre-cut pieces and a good, strong wood's glue. I couldn't believe it. I was flying. As a child, it had been my dream to be able to fly, but back then, the dream had been a fantasy, something that I never thought would be possible. Now, I was living a dream. I was really flying!

Flying wasn't so bad, believe it or not. Once you got the hang of it, it was pretty fun. It was like controlling a character in a video game; same concept, but not quite the same feeling. I was the video game character, yet I was the one playing the game as well. I was pressing the button on the controller, yet I was being controlled as well. If I wanted to move up, I could move up. If I wanted to move down, I could move down. And if I wanted to move side to side, back, forth, and all around, I could move side to side, back, forth, and all around. And the best part about it was that the controls weren't inverted. I hated inverted controls in video games. You know the ones I'm talking about, right? The ones that you have to press down to move up or press right to move left.

Rosalind was flying a little ways below me and she seemed to have gotten the hang of flying as well and was thoroughly enjoying herself too. She wasn't complaining anymore unlike I had expected her to since she had been so averse to flying moments ago. Now, she felt like me and was glad that Puck had forced us to fly. It was hard not to enjoy it with a view like the one that we had. The school's clock tower, my safe haven, had nothing on this.

This was my first actual experience with magic, where a spell actually affected me, instead of jinxes and hexes being fired all around me, and it was the best moment of my life. I craved more magic. I wanted to learn how to utilize magic. After all, Puck had mentioned that it was possible and I could not settle for becoming a normal girl once more after it was all said and done. I had been introduced to magic now and I couldn't bear to live without it.

But that would require me to accept the offer that I knew that Antonio and Othello would present to me once I arrived at the Merchant's Library. That would mean that I would have to travel to the world of Shakespeare with members of the King's Men. If I were to learn magic, I would have to help the King's Men recover the Seven Relics and ultimately help them to the defeat the Dark Lady and her alliance of evil.

The Dark Lady . . . I knew that she existed because a few of my new friends had mentioned her throughout the day and I had to wonder if she was anything like the person that my dreams portrayed her to be. Of course, she was evil and there was no doubt that she was trying to lead a rebellion in the world of Shakespeare, but was she really that vile? I also wondered why she was always the focal point of my dreams. Essentially, what was the _point _of it all? Why did I experience the world of Shakespeare through her eyes?

But enough of pointless thoughts and a little more flying. Did I mention how wonderful the view was?

"Into the clouds!" Puck commanded us.

We were no longer flying over the school anymore, but heading over busy streets and residential areas, including my apartment complex. I thought about Alice and Melody again and wondered what they were doing. I felt slightly guilty. They were worrying themselves silly while I flew by overhead. I wished I could tell them all about it later but they would never believe me. I wouldn't have believed myself if I wasn't doing it.

"The clouds?" I echoed, looking over at him as he flew to the left of me. "Why?"

"For cover!" Puck screamed against the howling wind. "So we won't be seen."

I understood completely why we needed cover and why we couldn't be seen by people far below, but was it safe to fly up into the clouds?

I expressed my concern then and Puck assured me jovially that nothing would happen to me except I was to feel a little cold and damp afterwards.

I flew on, my body rigid. Puck soared up into the clouds and disappeared overhead. Rosalind looked at me, shrugged, and ascended after him. I stared down at the passing city lights. The city seemed so far away below me that I thought it was impossible for anyone to see us up there. I could see people below but they were just dots to my weak eyes. Perhaps Puck's eyes were stronger than mine and he was just paranoid that there was a chance of us being spotted. I didn't think that we would. My eyesight was pretty good with my contacts in and if the people were just specks to me, I was positive that we were just specks to them. Heck, they probably even thought that we were birds—owls—or something like that.

"Anne?" Puck called, sticking his tiny head out from a fluffy cloud.

I sighed and climbed through the air, flying coming almost naturally to me. On the ground, I was a klutz and was clumsy on my own two feet, but up in the sky, I was much more coordinated.

I entered the clouds with cautious, pondering about the sensation I would feel. I expected to freeze instantaneously, recalling what I had learned from my science classes about how earth's atmosphere was colder the higher you went up, but my initial feeling was different than I expected.

I was cold certainly but it wasn't an unbearable cold. It was kind of pleasant really and soft, comfortable like a warm bed on a winter's night. Only this bed was moist, too moist but comfortable just the same. I could fall asleep up there.

I could not see through the clouds at all. Rosalind couldn't either. Puck claimed he could see through them just fine but ever so often he would poke his head out from among the clouds to scope out the scenery. Every time, he would update Rosalind and I on approximately how close we were to the square downtown where the Merchant's Library was located, and where Othello and Antonio would be waiting with Ariel for my arrival so that they could persuade me to lend my services to aid the King's Men.

Finally, a few minutes later, which was too soon in my book, Puck rejoined Rosalind and I among the clouds and told us happily, "We are almost at the bookstore! Now, here comes the best part—landing!"

The best part? My mind echoed. We were already doing the best part. The best part was flying itself, not landing. Besides, I already had some experience landing and it was simple. Well, it was simple when you were only a few feet off of the ground but when you were hundreds of feet in the air, landing was a lot harder as I soon found out.

"We have to do this quickly so we are not seen," Puck fed Rosalind and I instructions since we were both novices at flying, although Rosalind had obviously done it before because she had mentioned that she was sensitive to fairy dust. "Follow me."

We swooped down after Puck, falling out of the sky like an atomic bomb from those World War II footages that we were forced to watch in history class last semester. It was amazingly easy to allow myself to free fall through the sky like that, the wind blowing through my hair, without having to worry about ejecting a parachute or dying. I was safe as long as the magic of the fairy dust remained and I still had a good while too since it took a few hours for it to wear off completely.

I dove and spun around several times like a missile, laughing and having fun like I was a kid again. I could now see why Puck was always so content—he could fly. Flying was absolutely the best thing ever. Birds were so lucky and I guess that fairies were too. They could fly whenever they wanted to. People like me on the other hand weren't so lucky. We needed something like fairy dust or airplanes to help us achieve such a highly romanticized dream.

And then, I was falling faster and faster. The ground below was rushing up to meet me. I was out of control suddenly and on a quick collision course with the paved streets of the square.

"Um, Anne, you might wanna slow down," Puck advised me as I zipped past him, not paying attention to how fast I was going until I noticed that I had picked up an awful lot of speed and momentum.

I tried to hit the brakes but I couldn't do it quick enough. I was diving too fast and I immediately started to panic like I did when Puck had first poured some fairy dust on me.

"I can't!" I screamed.

"Calm down!" Puck called down to me. He had tucked in his body and was flying down to me, slowly gaining on me. "Just relax and pull yourself up slowly. The fairy dust will prevent you from a crash landing if you allow it to do its job and slow your descent."

"But what if I can't slow my descent?" I yelled a question his way.

"Then, you will crash," Puck told me somberly.

"Into pavement! I don't think so!" I screamed, panicking even more.

"Listen to him, Anne," Rosalind piped up for the first time in a long while. I had almost forgotten that she was with Puck and me. She had been so quiet during our short journey from the school's courtyard. "Try to relax. We don't want you to be injured."

I didn't want to be injured either. So, I tried to relax and remember what Puck had taught me so far about flying.

I was so close to the ground now that I could see it really well. I was just above the rooftops of the taller buildings but I tried to ignore the possibility of death that was edging into my mind. I could even see Death's face in my head. It wasn't of a mysterious hooded figure that resembled the Grim Reaper though. It was the face of a woman, an ugly woman with hair the color of ebony and the blackest eyes I had ever seen, like the eyes of demons from that one television show about the two cute brothers who travel around the United States in an old black Chevy Impala fighting supernatural creatures. She was so ugly, yet she resembled Lachesis—the beautiful red-haired woman—so much in her facial features. Now, how was that possible?

I concentrated on slowing my falling body and I started to slow down almost at once as though my flying instincts had finally kicked in. I righted myself so that my legs were facing downwards. Even though I had slowed considerably, I was still coming in too hot. I fell beneath the rooftops of the smaller building now. Puck was above my head but he was not close enough to grab me. I put all of my efforts into decelerating some more, trying to allow the fairy dust to keep me hovering enough so that I didn't hurtle into the pavement. Even though I would hit feet first, it still would hurt very badly and I was going fast enough to break limbs, I think.

A memory came to me and I remembered when I was in orchestra during my middle school years. When I was in the eighth grade, my class took a trip to a nearby city to perform in a two-day event. The hotel that we stayed in overnight had a pavilion in a lovely courtyard out back by the pool. My orchestra class stayed on the second floor and a window in one of the rooms led right to the top of the pavilion. Well, a few classmates and I thought it would be thrillingly fun to jump off of the top of the pavilion. I was the guinea pig who got to go first and the jump wasn't too high. Anyone could do it and not get seriously hurt. Bearing that thought in mind, I had leapt off of the pavilion and down to the grassy courtyard below. All I could remember was the pain of the impact that shot up my legs the moment that my feet touched solid earth. The pain was quick but so intense that I wobbled on the spot for a few seconds before I toppled over backwards to land on my behind. The experience wasn't pleasant and I knew that I was about to relive it again.

The pavement was close now, a little too close. I could see individual impressions and cracks in the surface. Still, I slowed but the time had come for impact. How hard would I hit? I was too scared to find out. I prayed and prayed silently that the fairy dust would catch me again. I liked it better when it was making me rise off of the ground, I realized too late.

I closed my eyes and awaited that sensation. But it never happened. I opened my eyes, confused. I looked down and saw that I was suspended in mid-air, hovering inches above the ground. I was ecstatic. The fairy dust had saved me. It had helped me from landing roughly. But then, I noticed that I wasn't getting any higher. I was just floating in the same spot.

I looked back over my shoulder. Rosalind was behind me and moving about in a motion that looked as though she was treading water to keep herself from floating away. Puck was nearby and he had a hand raised. He was performing magic. He was smiling and keeping me locked in place.

"Puck! Release me!" I cried.

"Shh!" Puck hushed me. "Be quiet before someone hears you." He chuckled.

"Release me now!" I hissed, a little quieter. The last thing we needed was for someone to happen to venture through the square and see the three of us suspended above the ground. It would be a sight to behold and could happen as a few of the places in the square was still open. It was pretty late into the night but not too late.

Puck performed a mock bow. "Your wish is my command."

He lowered his hand and I fell. With an "oof!" I belly-flopped and crumpled to the street. Puck howled with laughter and my body shook with rage. My chest and abdomen also hurt and so did my pride.

I stood up and looked daggers at Puck. "I didn't tell you to drop me!" I screamed at him, not caring who heard me. "That really hurt!"

"But it was pretty funny too," Puck said. "And besides, you told me to release you and that's what I did. I released you from the spell of the fairy dust."

"What are you talking about?" I asked, before I became suddenly aware that I was standing on my own two feet and not hovering in mid-air.

"I released you, silly!" Puck said jovially and even Rosalind snickered a bit then.

"Very funny," I told Puck sarcastically. "Now, _release_ Rosalind so we can get this meeting over with."

Puck did as he was told with occasional giggles. I swore that he laughed more so than gossiping schoolgirls.

After Puck reversed the spell on Rosalind as well, the two of them landed a lot more gracefully than I had because they had been expecting to do so, where as I had been caught off guard. Together, the three of us walked up the road to the Merchant's Library.

"You have to admit that that was pretty funny," Puck said, making conversation while we walked. I would have preferred him to remain silent. Puck also talked more than those gossiping schoolgirls as well.

"That was not funny," I told him. "Remind me to try that on you one day and see how you like it."

Puck grinned a little too wide for my liking. He was thinking hard, thinking about what I had just said. "Perhaps you will," he said, sounding way too excited for my liking too. It was like I was suddenly anti-Puck or something. I mean, don't get me wrong I liked him alright, but there was sometimes that I wanted to pretend that he was a bath towel and wring his little neck.

I caught on fairly quickly to what he was thinking. "I didn't choose my words carefully enough and I didn't mean what I just said. There probably won't be a 'one day', so don't get any ideas. I have not decided to help you guys yet and I am going into this meeting with Othello and Antonio with the intent in turning down any proposals that involve me going to the world of Shakespeare."

"Just don't go into it with a one-sided attitude," Rosalind said quietly. She had hesitated and I believed she hadn't wanted to say those words to me but had felt that they were essential enough to be said.

I fell silent. I didn't have anything to say to that.

I reached the entrance to the Merchant's Library first and I tried to open the door. The lock clicked several times as if taunting me since I couldn't open the door. Of course, it would be locked. What was I thinking? That I was going to be able to march in the bookstore like I owned the place?

"It's locked," I announced.

Puck stepped forward. "Most locks are susceptible to unlocking by magic and human locks are definitely not an exception," he told me. He did his hand waving thingie and I heard a different clicking noise than when I tried to open the locked door.

I tried the doorknob again and the door opened. The bell chimed, signaling our arrival as the three of us piled into the sales floor. Once again, I found myself standing inside of the Merchant's Library and I couldn't believe that it had only been a little over twenty-four hours since I had visited last. A lot had happened in a day and now, I was back.

I was nervous like before cause both situations were very similar. I wasn't actually trying to get a job this time around, yet Othello and the others had a job for me if I was interested. I was nervous because I was uncertain if I would be able to turn down their request now. Flying had nearly been enough just for me to tell Puck and Rosalind that I would help them, but I had resisted the urge.

We walked through the dark room and weaved around bookshelves. By the time we had reached the hallway that led to the infamous backroom that Antonio used as his private stores, I could see a small light approaching us, which got bigger and bigger as we got closer to it. I shielded my eyes from the brightness of the glow, until I could see a shadowy face above what I could make out to be a lantern. It was Antonio. He had come to lead us the rest of the way through obscurity.

Antonio held the lantern up to see our faces better as he came to a halt in front of us. "Puck, Rosalind? You have returned," he said by way of a greeting. "And you've brought her back with you. Anne Hathaway? It is a pleasure to see you again." He blushed suddenly and scratched the top of his head with his free hand. "I'm uh, sorry, we got off on the wrong foot yesterday." He then held out the hand that he had just used to scratch his head.

I shook his hand. "Apology accepted," I told him. "And sorry that your ring was stolen."

Antonio looked darkly and I thought that he was angry with me and was going to start yelling like he had done yesterday. I braced myself and expected an onslaught of anger but Antonio didn't yell. Instead, he said, "About that. I really didn't blame you for it yesterday. I was just mad that one of my prized possessions had been taken. You see, that ring was a special ring."

"I thought it was a replica of Leah's ring," I informed him. "I'm sorry. I didn't know why it was so dear to you then."

Antonio chortled suddenly, which caught me off guard since he was upset the moment before. "No, no, no, my dear child. That ring was no fake. The ring was real."

"You mean, that truly was Leah's ring!" I marveled.

"That's right," Antonio said. "You have read most if not all of the prophecies before, if I am not mistaken, so of course you would know all about Leah's ring."

"I bet there is one thing that she doesn't know about Leah's ring," Puck said.

"And what's that?" I wondered curiously.

Antonio was silent and seemed to be debating whether or not to answer my question. Before he could react too much, Puck opened his big mouth and gave me an entire spiel.

"I can't believe you didn't know this already but what you call Leah's ring is actually one of the only widely known relics of the Seven Relics. The rest of the Relics have been speculated for centuries and are only known to those few who have actually found them. But Leah's ring is the only one that everyone knows is an actual Relic."

"Wow," I said, utterly amazed. I would have never suspected such a plain and trivial ring to be one of the famous Seven Relics, but then again, in my dream the only two Relics I had seen was a skull and a ring—Leah's ring. Caliban had given it to the Dark Lady and Hostpur had given her the skull. I was one up on Antonio, Rosalind, and Puck, since I knew about two of the Relics. But I would not tell them that. I didn't want anyone to know about my bizarre dreams. They were irrelevant to everything anyways.

"So, what does the ring do?" I questioned them.

"Ah, that's the mystery, you see," Puck replied as expected. "No one knows what the ring can really do."

"I was trying to figure it out though," Antonio said. "But to no avail. Now, it doesn't matter anymore as it was stolen from me. That's why I am glad that you are here, Anne. If you can help us find the Relics, I will be able to have the ring returned to me and perhaps we could learn what it can do."

I felt bad for Antonio and some sympathy for him, but I didn't want to make any promises when it was still so early in the ballgame. "I'm sorry that it was stolen," I stated a second time, apologizing for something that I didn't do.

Antonio looked sour again. "It's okay, Anne, really," he commented. "I am aware of the culprit anyways."

I was shocked. "You know who stole the ring?"

Antonio nodded. "He confessed after the debacle at your apartment. I was surprised that he had confessed really. It is not in Caliban's nature to act in such a way."

I knew it! I knew Caliban was the one who had taken the ring. I had seen him with it in my dreams. Maybe my dreams were kind of like the Shakespearean prophecies in a way. Maybe my dreams could predict the future.

"Caliban was the one who stole it while I was unconscious?" I asked, doing a good job of adding surprise to my voice.

"He sure was," Antonio said. "He claims that he stole it and gave it to the Dark Lady pretending to be on her side. When the moment was right, he was going to take all of the Seven Relics and use them to defeat the Dark Lady and her growing rebellion."

"Or so he claimed," Rosalind scoffed. Again, I had almost forgotten that she was there; she had been so quiet lately. Or maybe it was just because Puck talked way too much. "Caliban is in league with the Dark Lady and he knows it. He wasn't going to take the Relics from her. He was going to help her to world domination if it meant that he was going to get a nice paycheck from it all. The Dark Lady offered him some incentive for joining her. I mean, what incentive does he have for not betraying us and the Sycorax?"

"True," Antonio mused. "What you say is true, Rosalind; however, Caliban has been working as a double agent for a long time. He is very good at what he does, I have to say, and even though we are unsure of his intentions—whether good or bad—I think that Caliban was telling me the truth. He is a selfish person and what he told me sounded like something a selfish person would say. He didn't mention that he would get the King's Men and the Sycorax to help him use the Seven Relics to defeat the Dark Lady. No, he said that _he _and only he would use them."

"Is Caliban still here?" I inquired. I didn't want to see him at all. Not only had he tried to kidnap me and force me to help him find the Seven Relics, but he had also stolen Leah's ring—one of the Seven Relics—from Antonio. The nerve of him! I didn't care if Caliban was a double agent and supposed to be fighting on the good side, he was selfish and just plainly bad news.

Antonio shook his head. "No, he is gone."

"Thank God," I breathed a sigh of relief. Hopefully, I would never have to see that vile, disfigured man again. I know that wasn't a nice thing to call Caliban—disfigured—but he deserved it. In fact, he really deserved to be called much worse. I was being nice stating the truth. I mean, he was disfigured and everyone who could see him knew that.

Antonio nodded but I wasn't sure if it was in agreement or not. "He and Will left not too long ago. They headed back to Shakespeare together."

My heart dropped from my chest down to somewhere around my mid-section. "Will," I gasped aloud, not caring if the others heard me or not. I felt a tugging of regret and a twinge of sadness. Will was gone because of me. I had been overly cruel to him and he had left the world he had come to love so much to return to Shakespeare. He was gone because he no longer loved this world—my world—because he believed that I no longer loved him. But I did love him still. I would always love him and cherish him. For as long as I lived, he would always have a place in my heart for being the first boy that I had ever fallen head over heels for. But what he didn't understand was that he had lied to me for far too long and that our relationship had to end because of it.

I didn't know if Antonio had heard me whisper Will's name or not but he said. "I know that Will was a friend of yours and I know it pains you to know that he has left as much as it pains me. He was so depressed. I had never seen him in such a state before. I was worried about him and tried to talk to him, but he wouldn't tell me what was going on. He had told me that he had found you and had spoken with you and I couldn't understand why he was willing to leave. He wasn't here for too long and I want to know what was going on with him. So, if you don't mind me asking: What happened?"

That was a question that I definitely wanted to avoid.

I hesitated before saying, "Will and I have a very complicated relationship," I told Antonio, starting to formulate a quick lie to get myself out of this touchy subject matter. "We are like best friends and I think I really hurt him when I told him that I wouldn't be going to Shakespeare with you all."

Antonio looked dejected. "So, you have made your decision then?" he questioned me.

I shrugged. "I don't know what I want anymore," I said. Thinking about Will again had me suddenly down in the dumps and I wanted nothing more but to experience flying again.

"Anne? Do me a favor, okay?" Antonio said to me. "I want you to think for a second and really ask yourself what you are doing here. If you decide that you don't want to be here, then there is no point in you staying here any longer. But if you want to be here, then we will proceed upstairs to where Othello and Ariel are waiting for us."

I thought about it like Antonio said. Images of Will kept intruding however and I found myself thinking more about my ex-boyfriend—that felt so weird to call him that—than about if I really want to be in the Merchant's Library at that time.

I wanted to see Will again. I didn't want to take back what I said but I wanted to at least tell him that he shouldn't have left because of me. It wouldn't change anything but it would make me feel better, a little bit more at ease with our breakup. I didn't want to be the reason why he returned to Shakespeare.

Well, from the looks of things, it seemed that the only way I would be able to see Will again was if I went to Shakespeare with the members of the King's Men. So did that mean that I wanted to be in the Merchant's Library? Would I hear Othello and Antonio out with the notion that I might have the chance to see Will again?

Yes, I told myself. Yes, I would and I would even go along with them to Shakespeare if I could see Will again. I didn't want him to leave me forever without a proper farewell. We had ended our last conversation on bad terms and I wanted to make them right as well. If we never got back together ever again, I would come to terms with it a lot smoother if we ended things on a good note. I wanted for us to at least try to become friends. Other than Melody and Alice, Will was also one of my best friends and had been for the past year. Now, it seemed like we didn't even know each other anymore.

"I want to be here," I told Antonio. "I want to hear what you and Othello have to tell me. Then, I will make my decision."

But hadn't I made my choice already?

Antonio smiled. "All right then. Follow me."

Holding the lantern aloft, Antonio led Rosalind, Puck, and me down the length of the familiar hallway and into the backroom. The room looked so different in the dark, but yet everything was still there except for the ring, of course. I looked up at the second floor and found the prophecies. Although they were no longer glowing, I knew exactly where they were and could make them out even in the dark.

"The prophecies are still glowing," Puck said happily.

I was bewildered. I was staring right at them, I was sure, and they were not glowing anymore. Was Puck seeing things?

"The prophecies aren't glowing," I informed him. "They stopped glowing ever since I read from one of them."

Puck was equally confused. "No," he insisted. "They are still glowing with a pretty golden light. Rosalind? Aren't they glowing?"

Rosalind nodded, confirming that Puck wasn't going crazy and that I was the one who was going crazy. "Puck is right. They are glowing."

"That's impossible!" I exclaimed.

"Not impossible, my dear child," Antonio said. "The prophecies _are _glowing, yet they are _not_ glowing at the same time. That's the beauty of the magic that surrounds the prophecies. They only glow and are made to look enticing to the eyes of those of us who hadn't had the luxury of reading from any of them. Puck, Rosalind, and I can see the effulgence that the prophecies are giving off because they are trying to invite us to come and read about our futures or the futures of our friends and enemies. You, on the other hand, have read from one of the prophecies. That is why they do not glow for you anymore."

I nodded in understanding. "I see," I said, glad to know that I wasn't going crazy.

We walked over to the ladder that led up to the second floor. Puck once again demonstrated his expertise in flight and glided up to the upper level instead of making use of the ladder. Antonio stepped aside and allowed Rosalind and I to climb up before he did. He trailed us shortly thereafter and guided us around the corner and to a doorway.

I had been up on the second level before but I had never ventured through the doorway. I knew that it led to Antonio's home and it dawned on me that I had never visited the home of a person from Shakespeare before since Will never took me to his place. I wondered what it would be like. Would Antonio's apartment look modern or would it look like a home from Elizabethan times? Like a castle, perhaps?

Antonio performed a quick spell on the door and we were granted access. I followed closely behind Antonio and through the doorway. Rosalind and Puck came through behind me.

We were in a gloomy hallway. Stairs were all that was present here—we hadn't made it quite to Antonio's apartment yet. We climbed the stairs quietly and at the top we came to another closed door. Antonio did the same thing he had done downstairs and the door was unlocked.

We stepped through the second door and into a well-lit parlor room, a nice change from the gloomy storeroom. Light was spilling from a chandelier overhead and I was surprised at how modern the decoration was in Antonio's apartment. He had a sofa and several chairs and even a television, although it wasn't a plasma one but an old floor model version. The walls were painted solid colors, nothing too fancy and there was carpet beneath my shoes instead of a cold, stone floor as I had predicted.

Sitting on the couch was Othello. Ariel was by the window, floating.

Othello stood up to greet us when we entered. "Anne Hathaway," he said. "You have come." He approached me and held out his hand. "My name is Othello and it is a pleasure to finally get the opportunity to meet you."

I shook his hand. The King's Men members were more pleasant than I had expected. "You too, Othello. I am honored to meet you." I waved at Ariel who had looked over at us. "Hey," I remembered my manners and greeted her as well. "It's nice to see you again. You're Ariel right?"

Ariel glided over to me instead of walking. She was a ghost after all and didn't have the need to walk.

"You can see me?" she asked me, fascinated by such an idea.

I was blown away by this. "Of course, I can see you," I told her. "Why wouldn't I be able to see you?"

Ariel beamed and was smiling so much that she didn't answer me. It was Othello who responded.

"Ariel is a spirit, a soul who was bound to life even after death. She is a ghost from the world of Shakespeare and can only be seen by Shakespeareans. You, as a human girl, should not be able to see her at all, yet you can. This is a strange phenomenon and the only explanation that I have for it is that you can see Ariel since you are tied to the prophecy you read that has you also tied you to the Seven Relics."

"Or maybe it is because of the Prophecy of the Sycorax somehow?" Puck suggested. "I don't know how it can be possible since Anne is a girl but what if she is a part of the Prophecy."

Othello considered this possibility. Again, someone mentioned the Prophecy of the Sycorax and I was dying to know what it entailed. I remembered snippets of Caliban explaining it from one of my dreams but I still didn't know much about it.

"Will someone please tell me what the Prophecy of the Sycorax is?" I asked, exasperation in about half of my voice.

All eyes fell upon Othello, the superior officer here. They all looked at him as though he was the only one who could answer me, or I guess I should say that he was the only one who was authorized to make the decision on whether or not to answer me. Even some of them, like Puck and Ariel, looked at Othello with mild curiosity. I noticed that they were all staring at Othello and I pretended not to notice. Othello pretended too or maybe he just didn't care or was used to such gazes of intrigue.

"The Prophecy of the Sycorax is an ancient prophecy," Othello began in a booming and majestic voice like that of a regal orator. I stared at him too. I couldn't believe that he was going to tell me about the prophecy. "Though it is not as old as the prophecies in the glowing manuscripts that were penned by William Shakespeare, the Prophecy of the Sycorax was made not too long after the manuscripts were written by a group of wild, cannibalistic people known as the Sycorax.

"The Sycorax from way back then were nothing like the swordsmen that go by the same name today. The Sycorax people inhabited a small uncharted island and were more like shaman than mystics—or people who can utilize magic. They wasted their time researching the magical arts of healing and prophecy. Some say that some Sycorax learned to conquer death but I say that those who believe those cock-and-bull myths are insane. Others say that the Sycorax struck a deal with Atropos, or the witch-goddess of Death, which is why they were experts at healing, but I believe that to be rubbish as well. What I actually believe in, however, is the Prophecy that was made by the Sycorax prior to the unexpected disappearance of their race.

"There is speculation as to who among the Sycorax actually stated the prophecy but that is irrelevant. What matters is that the prophecy was made and as the years went by, most people of Shakespeare have come to worship the prophecy as though it is a religion."

"Like us fairies!" Puck said proudly, beaming like usual.

Othello nodded. "Yes, it is hard to find a fairy who doesn't believe in the Prophecy of the Sycorax," he agreed with Puck.

"But what is the prophecy exactly?" I asked Othello, almost begging him to tell me. I felt like he was beating around the bush way too much. I didn't want a history lesson. I got enough of those at school.

"The main clause of the prophecy states that after many years of peace and prosperity following the reign of the first true king—William Shakespeare—the world of Shakespeare would finally be thrust into chaos and strife," Othello explained at long last. I listened carefully, catching on to his each and every word. "It was said by one of the Sycorax that during that time of chaos and strife, a new leader would rise from obscurity to claim the throne of Shakespeare. He will relieve the Golden Rulers, the kings of the Three Thrones, of their duties and alone he will rule Shakespeare with a heavy hand and restore peace to the entire world.

"Magical torches called the Royal Beacons would be lit once the king was discovered, to signal that the king—Shakespeare's true heir—would be coming to power soon. That is the main clause of the prophecy but others believe that there is more to the prophecy or people have added false amendments to it over the years. The main clause is the only thing that I believe in. The rest of the tales that I have heard about the prophecy I take with a grain of salt."

"Why do you believe that Shakespeare's heir will one day rule Shakespeare and bring back a Golden Age?" I was curious to know. "What makes you believe that part of the prophecy and not the other stories that you have heard?"

"Because I have proof of the Royal Beacons," Othello informed me. "They were built centuries ago and they stand in the heart of the Three Thrones, the very place where the three kingdoms meet. There are seven in all and they enclose the courtyard of the headquarters of the King's Men—Propsero's Manor. Recently, they were lit magically on their own accord. Four golden flames and three silver flames now light up the courtyard and it means that the heir has been located. Soon, and I hope soon enough, he will finally be revealed and reclaim the throne that is rightfully his."

"But how long will that take?" I was full of questions now. "Days? Weeks? Years even?"

"We are not certain," Antonio joined the conversation. "We do not know how long it will take for the heir to be revealed to the public. He will be marked by a crown on the back of his hand. Once marked, it is left up to him to reveal himself and secure his destiny."

"This mark, is it like a tattoo?" I asked.

Antonio who knew what a tattoo was nodded. Everyone else looked stumped. I was grateful that Antonio had lived in the human world long enough to know what I was talking about. "Yes," he replied. "It will look just like a tattoo."

"Then, the prophecy can speak of anyone," I concluded. "Wouldn't it be hard to tell who the heir was if everyone went and got the same crown-shaped tattoo on the back of one of their hands?"

"No, it wouldn't be," Antonio enlightened me. Apparently, I didn't know enough about the prophecy yet to make assumptions like the one I had made. "The tattoo—_mark_—that the heir bears is different than any mark that a person could get whether by needle, branding, or even magic. You see, the mark of the heir will glow brightly like the prophecies downstairs in the presence of not only the Royal Beacons but also in the presence of the Seven Relics."

"That is why many believe that the Prophecy of the Sycorax is closely correlated to the Seven Relics," Othello picked up where Antonio had left off and they overburdened be with information now, so that it was hard to keep up. "People have invented stories that tie the Seven Relics to the prophecy in more ways than just the mark of the chosen heir. The one story that prevails above the others is that a lot of people think that the heir is also the rightful master of the Seven Relics, that only he can truly wield them and unleash their ultimate power."

I understood then why Puck would wonder if I was the person that the prophecy speaks of. Maybe there was a deeper meaning to why the King's Men wanted me to help them recover the Relics. Not only would I know—and this is hopefully by a long stretch of the imagination—where the Relics were now located, but maybe they were hoping that I would be the master of the Relics as well. If that were true, then maybe they even considered that I might be the heir of Shakespeare, which was just downright impossible. I was human. I was not Shakespearean. Surely whoever believed my hypothesis had lost his or her mind. I couldn't even figure out why such a thought had crossed my own mind.

Still, I said, "So you think that I might be the one? The heir and the master?"

Othello shook his head. "You can't be," he said. "There is no 'true' master of the Relics and the prophecy speaks of a male heir, not a female heir. I am sorry."

"There's no need to be sorry," I told him happily. "It's actually a relief to know that I am not either."

"I know the prophecy speaks of a male heir," Puck spoke up. I think that in the past few minutes, he had shattered a record with his silence. "But I can't help but to think that perhaps the prophecy is wrong."

Puck might as well have blasphemed. Everyone rounded on him and Rosalind narrowed her eyes at him. "You stole my idea!" she accused him. "I was the one who thought that perhaps the prophecy was wrong."

Puck threw up his hands in self-defense. "Calm down for a second and hear me out," he said to Rosalind and to the others, buying himself some time to explain. "I don't know if Anne has anything to do with the prophecy but what if it was wrong anyways. What if the one who read from one of the Shakespearean prophecies is the master of the Seven Relics and what if the descendant of kings is a completely different person."

Othello squashed Puck's reasoning. "How many times must I say it: There is no master of the Relics. That part of the prophecy is made up."

"Just because you don't believe in it doesn't make it fact or fiction, my friend," Antonio told Othello. "Ever since we had our discussion last night, I have been thinking along the same lines as Puck. I know that Prospero would not reveal why one of the prophecies were tied to the discovery of the Seven Relics, but the only reason I could think of was that Prospero wanted whoever would read from the one book to be the one who could find the Relics and use them to assist the heir in securing the throne."

Prospero. The name was familiar to me as well. He was the great magician from the play _The Tempest_. His name was mentioned several times in my dreams and what I have come to gather from those nightly visits to the world of Shakespeare, Prospero was one of the leaders of the King's Men. His manor was the headquarters for the King's Men so my speculation made sense. Him and Oberon, another fairy like Puck who was a character in _A Midsummer Night's Dream_, were the two that everyone—Othello included—answered to.

So, Prospero knew a lot more than he was letting his soldiers know. Interesting and that was so like Prospero's character from the play—I mean, prophecy. He was always so enigmatic when he was hatching his plans of revenge against his brother and those who helped his brother take what was rightfully his. He was a little mad but a genius nonetheless. If anyone would be perfect to lead the King's Men it would be Prospero.

"Now that is something I never thought about," Othello said and he started pacing back and forth across the parlor room. "I wish Prospero would tell us something, anything, so we would know for sure."

"Maybe Prospero doesn't know himself," I speculated.

"That can't be true," Ariel said in an ethereal voice. If you actually listened to how her voice sounded, you would find it beautiful and slightly creepy sometimes. "Prospero is the wisest person I have ever known. He knows everything."

"No one knows everything," I said. "Prospero may be a genius but he doesn't know everything."

Suddenly, Ariel looked as though I had insulted her personally. "You're wrong," she said to me. "Prospero knows everything."

All right then. She was one of those devoted followers of a leader who was as precious as diamonds in her eyes. Okay. Well, I wouldn't argue with her. I didn't want Ariel to curse me or anything and it wasn't like I could hurt her at all either. She was dead for crying out loud.

"If you say so, then I believe that Prospero knows everything," I told Ariel. She smiled and looked happy again. She also looked smug.

Othello stopped pacing suddenly. "I don't know if you are right Antonio, Puck, and even you, Rosalind, but I must say this: What you all believe have brought new insight to me about the Seven Relics and the Prophecy of the Sycorax. I would like to reflect on what you have told me; however, now is not the time." He faced me. "Anne Hathaway? I think you deserve an explanation as to why we, along with Caliban, came to your apartment today."

"Please just call me Anne," I said. "And you don't have to explain. I think I know by now that you want me to help you all recover the Seven Relics."

"Well, that's it in a nutshell, yes," Othello said. "But what you have to understand is that the Relics are very important. The time of chaos and strife that the Prophecy of the Sycorax speaks of has come to pass. A war is brewing. The Dark Lady is building an army, allying herself with mysterious people known as the Critics. We don't know where the Critics come from and why they have come to our world. All we know is that they are in league with the Dark Lady and that an attack is imminent. There are already rebellions in one of the Three Thrones. The rebellions are minuscule of course, but sources claim that the Dark Lady is at the helm of these tedious scuffles, setting us up for a major invasion. Our spies are trying to gather as much information as possible about the newly formed Dark Alliance, the combination of the Critics' and the Dark Lady's forces of evil.

"Since we don't know how long it will take for the descendant of Shakespeare to be revealed, the Seven Relics are our only hope, our only weapon, or weapons I should say, against the Dark Alliance. We outnumber the Dark Alliance presently, but there numbers are growing daily. Ours, unfortunately, aren't. It is imperative that we recover the Seven Relics as soon as possible and we believe that you can help us with that task. Prospero says that you are bound to the Relics by reading from one of the glowing prophecies because the moment that you read from the book, the Seven Relics disappeared and are now hidden, scattered throughout the world of Shakespeare in various locations, which is a good thing since the Dark Lady had managed to acquire all seven of them and was poised to becoming the supreme ruler of Shakespeare.

"We have eluded her attempt at taking over Shakespeare once and by accident. Next time, I don't believe that we will be so lucky unless we find the Seven Relics first."

I decided to point out something that I had noticed about Othello. "If you believe in the prophecy so much, why is finding the relics so important? The relics shouldn't matter if the heir is revealed and claims the throne."

"Ah, but the prophecy is just a prophecy meaning that there is no guarantee that it will come true," Othello said.

"But you just said—" I started to point out something else but Othello stopped me.

"When a prophecy is told, it is told with the intent of predicting a future event," Othello explained. "And it is just that: A prediction. Predictions are not fact, Anne. Predictions are merely speculations of what may or may not come to pass. A prophecy gives the persons it speaks of a choice. The people who are involved in the prophecy cause it to occur or not occur by his or her actions. Yes, a part of the prophecy is already taking place in the world of Shakespeare because the Dark Lady has already made the choice to become the villain and bring the chaos and strife to a previously peaceful world. The rest of the prophecy will play out only if the marked heir decides to embrace his destiny. If he remains hidden among the rest of the citizens of Shakespeare, never to reveal his true identity, then the line of Shakespeare will be broken and who knows what might happen then if the Dark Lady is successful or unsuccessful in her efforts. But if the heir reveals himself, then he _will _restore peace and prosperity to our world.

"But we cannot rely on the heir to be revealed. There is so much at stake. The Dark Lady is moving quickly, ready to mobilize her troops and we must stay one step ahead of her. That is why we want to find the Relics and that is why we need you, Anne. You are bound to the Relics whether you like it or not. That part you do not have a choice in; nonetheless, we shall imagine that this is a prophecy that you are a part of and we will give you a choice on whether or not you will go to Shakespeare with us and assist us on our quest. We cannot force you to come with us. Because of free will and because you have a choice, it is up to you to decide your destiny, just like the heir of the Prophecy of the Sycorax."

Othello stopped speaking and fell silent. Man, he was good at convincing people. The way he spoke was simply astonishing. He had phrased his words so carefully that I was left to wonder how could I resist the invitation now? It was so clear that the King's Men needed me and they wanted more than anything for me to lend my assistance, yet they gave me a choice. I alone would decide what to do and perhaps even the fate of the world of Shakespeare. It was all left up to me. The King's Men could possibly recover the Relics without me, but how long would that take? The war could be over by then and then what? If the heir never showed himself, then would they be doomed anyways? So many questions bombarded my ravaged little mind that I wanted to scream. There were so many possible outcomes that could occur because of my decision. I didn't want anything bad to happen to Shakespeare but at the same time I was unsure if I could help the King's Men at all. Again, I reminded myself that I was only a human. I couldn't fight and I couldn't perform magic.

But Puck had told me that I could learn. He had said that I could learn magic and perhaps I could learn how to swordfight as well.

A picture of Will floated into my head then. I really wanted to see him again. He was back in Shakespeare now because of me and I had to make things right . . . .

I was going to hate myself for this I was sure, but I think I had reached a decision. It had been obvious for a while now and I just couldn't see it happening until now.

"Take all of the time you need to think your decision over," Othello told me and I almost didn't hear him because I was trying to find the courage to announce my final decision. Once I pronounced it, it would be too late to take it back. I wanted to rethink things through but I didn't permit myself to. This was what I wanted and I would accept it.

With the possibility of exploring a place I had never been before, a place that I knew so well, yet didn't know so well just the same; the possibility of seeing Will again; as well as the possibility of learning combat and magic, I finally had the audacity to say this:

"I don't need anymore time. I know what I want to do."

"And that will be?" Othello pressed.

I could feel everyone's eyes upon me. It was like I was making an elaborate speech in front of thousands of people who were all watching my every move. Beads of sweat started to build on my forehead but I ignored them.

I took a deep breath and I carried through with what I had to say, delivering it without too many stutters. "I will accompany you all on your journey but on one condition."

Puck cheered ecstatically. Rosalind and Ariel smiled. Antonio looked relieved and Othello betrayed no emotion, although I knew that he was just as excited as the rest of them.

"And that will be?" Othello repeated.

"That you promise to teach me all of the skills that I would need to protect myself if need be," I fed them my one condition. "I will be in an unfamiliar place and I will be scared. But if you will promise to teach me how to defend myself and how to use magic, then I know that I will be fine. Puck told me that I could learn magic and I would like to learn as much as possible."

"That can be arranged," Othello assured me. "In fact, I will take you on as my own apprentice. I will be your guardian."

"Are you sure, Othello?" Antonio asked him. "Prospero may not approve of this. You know that humans are not allowed to learn magic. It is against the law."

"I am aware of the laws, Antonio," Othello reminded him, "and I am sure that Prospero would make an exception in this case, as would the people of Shakespeare."

Antonio appeared uncertain by this idea but he didn't voice his disagreement. Not even the newly formed scowl on his face could hide the elation that he felt by my decision.

"Now that you will come with us, Anne, we must leave as soon as possible," Othello told me.

"That's fine," I said. "But before we go, I was wondering"—and I hesitated for a moment—"I was wondering if I could, if I could go home and say goodbye to my sister, Alice, and my best friend, Melody. I'm sure that they are really worried about me since I wasn't home when they arrived. I just want them to know that I am safe."

Othello's voice was grave when he answered me, but his face showed no emotion. "I'm sorry, Anne, but we can't allow you to do that."

"What about your speech about having a choice?" I threw at him. "Do I not get a choice in this matter?"

"I'm afraid not," Othello told me. "We have strict laws in Shakespeare about humans knowing about our world and we may make an exception for you because of current circumstances, but your sister and your friend are not allowed to know anything. We are sworn to secrecy. Again, I am sorry."

Tears started to well up in my eyes. I didn't know if I would ever get to see Alice and Melody again and Othello was denying my chance to give them a final goodbye. Damn the laws of Shakespeare! If I was leaving, then I should be allowed to see my sister and best friend one last time. Why did I agree to help them? I was regretting my decision already.

"I can make up something! I could tell them anything!" I pleaded with Othello. "I just want to see them once last time. Please!"

Othello shook his head. "We can't risk it. I'm sorry, Anne. Please don't ask me again." He looked over at Antonio. "Let us contact Prospero to tell him the good news and then, we will be on our way."

Antonio nodded and headed for the only doorway in the sitting room that didn't lead out of the apartment. Othello returned to his perch on the sofa and gazed at the wall. That was it then. There was no use in me pleading anymore. He would not listen. There was no way that I could get him to bend the laws for me.

I sat down on the floor and sobbed. As much as I wanted to see Will again, I didn't want to leave without saying bye to Alice and Melody. I didn't know what would become of the two of them if I never returned. Alice had already lost our parents and now she might lose me as well. I couldn't bear to think about that. And poor Melody! The two of us had become such close friends over the past year. She was like a second sister to me and I would be leaving her behind as well and for what? To help save a world that I didn't belong to.

"Well, can I at least go home and pack up some of my clothes and some of my belongings?" I asked Othello, my eyes blurry from tears.

He looked at me and didn't react at all to my crying. "Everything that you could possibly need will be provided for you when we reach Shakespeare."

I sobbed even more and Antonio returned to the room. I was defeated and out of ways to plead some more with Othello.

"Othello," Antonio said.

Without looking at me, Othello got up from the sofa and followed Antonio into the room that Antonio had gone into earlier. The two of them disappeared for a while and I could hear their voices, although I could not make out what was being said.

Rosalind came over to me and comforted me. "It'll be all right, Anne," she promised me. "It will be difficult at first, but it will get better eventually."

"Besides, you will have Rosalind and I to watch over you," Puck chimed in.

"That's right," Rosalind agreed with him. "We will remain by your side as much as possible, Anne, and help you adjust to life in Shakespeare."

"Thank you guys," I said, genuinely grateful for their kind words. "Thank you. That means a lot to me."

"You're welcome," Rosalind said, before leaning down to whisper in my ear. "And here's a little secret: You might get to see your sister and friend again sooner than you think. Time passes differently in Shakespeare than it does here. For every hour you spend here, it is a day in Shakespeare. You could spend an entire month in Shakespeare and only be a away from your sister and friend for a little over a day."

I perked up a little then. That was very useful information to know and I was greatly appreciative.

"Thank you for telling me that," I said to Rosalind, wiping the tears away. "That's good to know." It brought me some comfort to know that if we got the quest done quickly, I could be back home in no time. Of course, I would have to lie to Alice about where I had been and I hoped that it wouldn't cause problems of distrust in the future. Maybe I could get Puck or someone to alter Alice's memory so that she would forget that I was even gone and Melody's too. But no, that would be too cruel and I wasn't even sure if Puck or anyone else had an arsenal of memory charms anyways.

I looked over at Ariel then, who was gliding in front of the window, staring outside into the night, almost absently. I noticed that while Othello and Antonio, as well as occasional additions by Puck and Rosalind, were telling me about the Prophecy of Sycorax and requesting I help them locate the Seven Relics, Ariel kept mostly to herself and seemed separate from it all. I didn't know if it was because she was a ghost that made me realize something like that, but even though she had spoken a few times during the conversation, she had just seemed so distant.

"Ariel?" I called, desperate for conversation to help ease my troubled mind. I also felt bad for trying to convince her that Prospero didn't know everything. "So, humans cannot see you right?"

Ariel turned away from the window and glided towards me. "That's correct," Ariel said, thrilled that I was talking to her. I could tell that she was left out a lot. "Humans cannot see me at all but people from Shakespeare can only because I choose to be revealed."

"That's why the people at the restaurant could not see you when you were waiting with Othello for Antonio to arrive for lunch," I recalled.

"That's right," Ariel stated. "You were there at the restaurant. I remembered seeing you and I was curious because I thought you could see me, which it turns out that you can see me. I didn't think much of it then and I should have said something to Othello but I didn't. How ironic it was that we were looking for you and you happened to cross our path without us knowing that it was you whom we were searching for all along. It would have made things a lot easier, I would have imagined. And maybe what took place at your apartment would not have happened. Don't worry about the damage we caused though. We fixed everything before we left. Your sister won't suspect a thing."

"Except that I'm missing," I barely said. Trying to keep my mind from straying back to thoughts about Alice and Melody, the only family that I had now since Will and I were on bad terms, I said to Ariel. "But what I can't understand is why I can see you. I am human after all, so why do you think I can see you? I'm not sure I believe that it has something to do with the Seven Relics."

"Perhaps you are really Shakespearean," Puck joked and I never recalled asking him to join the conversation. This was a serious matter, which really took up tons of space within my head along with a million other thoughts and concerns and memories, and he had to make a joke out of everything.

"That's not funny, Puck," I told him. "You shouldn't joke about something like that."

"But what if Puck is not joking?" Ariel asked me. "What if there is some truth to his words? It would make sense that you are perhaps Shakespearean. After all, you can see me and humans aren't supposed to."

I shook my head. That was ridiculous and impossible, although I was beginning to finally open my eyes and see that nothing was really impossible anymore. After all, I had seen magic at work through various spells and even a cloak that could make people invisible. I had been tempted by one of the Three Witches, who greatly resembled the Three Fates of Greek Mythology and even had the same names, and so I knew that nothing was impossible. Yet I found it rather difficult to accept that I was Shakespearean. Even though I didn't think that was the case either, I would almost believe that my ability to see Ariel had something to do with my ties to the Seven Relics rather than me having Shakespearean blood running a course throughout my innards.

"I am not Shakespearean," I told them. "I am American."

"For all we know, you could be Shakespearean," Ariel said. "Shakespearean travelers and explorers have been journeying back and forth between the two worlds since the time of William Shakespeare even. Some have even settled here legally or illegally and I am certain that some of them have even fathered or mothered children with humans. After the passing of hundreds of human years, you never know who might be related to a Shakespearean lineage. There could have been someone at the restaurant who could even see me besides you, Anne, if they were a child of Shakespeare."

I never thought about it like that. Of course, there had been Shakespeareans living in my world for a very long time. William Shakespeare himself even lived here, going back and forth between this world at the one that he founded so long ago. He had made prophecies in the world of Shakespeare about a future generation, but had published those prophecies here as plays for the queen and drama productions to earn a living. Why he would do that when he was King of Shakespeare, I could only speculate, but nevertheless, he had even produced offspring in the human world himself. He had an entire line of descendants here and as Ariel pointed out, so did other Shakespeareans who came to live on the planet of Earth.

I looked to Rosalind. "So, essentially, Shakespeareans besides spirits and fairies, of course"—I winked once at Ariel and Puck in turn—"are humans."

Rosalind nodded. "Yes. I guess you can say that, although make sure _not _to say that when you enter the world of Shakespeare. Shakespeareans would take it as the worse insult ever if you referred to them as humans."

"Duly noted then," I said. "So I might be Shakespearean?" I asked anyone, not really caring to receive an answer. I didn't know how I felt about the possibility of me being Shakespearean since I never considered it before. There was plenty of doubts that remained telling me I wasn't, but there was a flicker of hope present too that told me I was. If I was Shakespearean, I don't know how the knowledge of that would change anything. I would wonder about my parents then and if they had known about our heritage, that's if to say if I was Shakespearean. And I also didn't like to think about my parents much anyways. It was a touchy subject and if I was indeed Shakespearean, I wouldn't be able to talk to them again. There were gone, long gone. I wondered if Alice knew something . . . . Stop it, Anne! I chided myself. Stop thinking about Alice! It will only make things harder.

"Like we said, there's a possibility that you might be," Ariel told me. "However, I have seen many strange things happen whenever magic is involved and maybe you can see me because of some unknown reason."

I was still baffled why I could see Ariel, and thinking about the likelihood of me being Shakespearean when Othello and Antonio returned to the parlor room from where I believed to be Antonio's bedroom.

"We have contacted Prospero and have told him that we have found you Anne and that you have agreed to help us," Othello said. "Prospero looks forward to seeing you and we must leave now. Before we go, I must remind you of something though. Your agreeing to help us recover the Relics is not a binding contract. If at anytime you no longer wish to help us, you may leave and return home with the promise that you will tell no human of your exploits while in Shakespeare. The road that you are about to travel will not be easy and it will be a dangerous one; however, the King's Men and the Sycorax will be there with you and for you along the way. Our sole duty will be to keep you safe from harm while we are searching for the Relics." Othello paused and then asked me. "Any questions?"

Of course, I had fifty bajillion questions. But they all could not be answered right now, as we needed to leave soon, so I shook my head. "I don't have any questions."

"Okay then," Othello seemed satisfied that I didn't have questions, or rather he was satisfied because I didn't ask them. He knew that I had a lot of questions. I had never been to Shakespeare before so naturally I would have questions and it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure that out. "Let us take our leave."

It struck me like lightning then. I was about to leave the world and life I knew behind me. I was about to travel to a new and fascinating world that was much different than my own, a world that I was somewhat familiar with already due to an assortment of innocent and pleasurable research. That brought me some ease to my anxiety and was my only medicine—the knowledge of some familiarity with the world of Shakespeare.

I was about to leave behind Alice, my older sister and the only person in the world who loved me more than life itself. Alice had taken care of me for the past five years and would have given up anything just to make sure that her little sister was happy and was safe. Nothing else in the world mattered to Alice than taking care of me—not even designing clothes could come close. Alice had sacrificed many things that would make her happy just to ensure that we always had a place to live, food on the table, and clothes on our backs. She had worked two jobs, with the exception of recently being fired from one of them, for as long as I could remember. She was a full-time college student, working hard to graduate soon so that she could get a better job so that we could afford a better life. Now, I was leaving her without saying goodbye. I didn't know what would become of me when I went to Shakespeare. Othello had said that the road to the Relics would be a dangerous one. I never thought about it before my decision had been made, but I could die while on my quest. Then, what? What would happen if I died in Shakespeare? Would Alice ever have knowledge of what became of me or would she go on living her life, constantly battling between the two rational thoughts that I had either run away like others who have been dear to us or that I had been abducted by some crazy lunatic who murdered me for pleasure and dumped my body some place where it could never be recovered. It pained me deeply to leave her without a proper farewell in case I never saw her again.

I was about to leave behind Melody, my best friend and second sister who lost her popularity at school and all of the perks that went along with it just to be friends with me because that was what she had truly wanted all along. We had only been friends for a year but it was enough time for us to grow so close, for me to become fond of Melody. Alice was fond of her too, as they bonded over designing and making clothes, and Melody had become a second sister to me. She would stand by Alice's side as they searched for me. I prayed that their search would not be in vain and that I would return before they could miss me too much. If I didn't come back, I knew in my heart that Melody would keep Alice from going insane and losing yet another person who was so close to her. The two of them would be strong enough to face the pain together.

And last, but certainly not least, I was about to leave behind the relationship that I had with Will. We had fell in love here and our relationship—not love, mind you—ended here as well. Perhaps Shakespeare would bring a fresh start. He was there and I would be there soon and there was a chance that we would meet each other again. It would be like meeting for the first time. This time, we will be in his home instead of mine.

Everyone gathered around Othello, except for Antonio, who stood back away from us. I followed everyone's lead, wondering how we were going to travel to Shakespeare. Would we be flying using fairy dust? I wouldn't mind that, wouldn't mind that at all.

I looked back at Antonio. He just stood there, watching us. What was he doing?

"Antonio? Are you not coming with us?"

He shook his head. "No, I will not be making the journey with you all," he informed me.

"Why not?"

He smiled. I was glad that I got to know the real Antonio, who was much different than I had anticipated. First impressions can do a lot for you but he was not the mean, old, eccentric man that he thought he was at first.

"In case, you hadn't noticed, Anne," he said jokingly. "I have a store to run." He chuckled. "At any rate, someone has to stay behind and guard the prophecies to keep other people from reading from the one that bounds him or her to the Seven Relics." He winked at me and I couldn't help but to smile. "And someone also has to keep an eye on your sister for you."

"Oh, thank you, Antonio!" I squealed and my instincts drove me across the room and into his arms, hugging him tightly like a daughter would her father. Embarrassed, Antonio hugged me back. "Thank you so much!"

"You're welcome, Anne," he blushed because of my sudden burst of emotions.

I pulled away from him and even though I was crying again, I was also smiling.

"It was nice meeting you, Anne Hathaway," Antonio said and I didn't care that he had called me by my first and last name.

"You too, Antonio," I said.

"You take care of yourself, you hear," Antonio gave me some last minute instructions before we departed. "Listen to everything Othello has to teach you. He is a real warrior and he knows a thing a two about magic too." He winked again.

I beamed brighter. "Okay," I promised him.

"And when you get back, I would be honored to have you work for me," Antonio added.

"Really?"

"Really, really."

I hugged him again. "Thank you. Alice will be thrilled!"

"No, thank you," Antonio said. We pulled apart again. "Now, go and bring me my ring back."

I nodded. "Sure thing."

"Goodbye Anne."

"Goodbye Antonio."

I rejoined the others.

Othello looked at me. "You ready?"

"Yes," I said bravely.

Rosalind, Puck, Ariel, and I formed a circle around Othello then. At first, I didn't know what was going on until Puck shoved me backwards and to the left. I glared at him and he grinned back.

I finally noticed the necklace around Othello's neck then because he was holding the purple crystal in his hand. Ariel twitched a bit and I could see a blue gem in her hair bow. Both were beautiful like the finest of amethyst and sapphire I had ever seen before in my entire life.

Othello held the gem tightly in his hands. Before anything could happen, I was curious. "How are we going to travel to Shakespeare?"

Othello regarded me and held up the purple crystal even higher for me to view better. "This crystal is a part of an amulet that was given to me by Prospero when I first joined the King's Men in what feels like eons ago. The crystal has several magical abilities and one of them is that it can be used to open up one of the many gateways that lead to Shakespeare from the human world."

I pointed at the necklace. "We're going to use that to travel?"

Othello nodded. "That's correct."

"How does this work exactly?" I wondered, my fifty bajillion questions starting to spill out of me.

"You'll see," was all that Othello said. "I will explain it as we go along."

I fell silent and waited, wondering what was going to happen next, fear and anxiety gripping me.

Puck was grinning at me and I noticed him out of the corner of my eyes. I glanced over at him and he said, "Here comes the best part."

Othello continued to hold the gem before closing his eyes. He started mumbling something under his breath, an incantation I imagined, which grew louder and louder each time he recited it.

This is what he said:

_With the powers that are vested in me_

_I call forth a magic beyond measure_

_Though beautiful this amulet may be_

_It is not one to be viewed with pleasure_

_This amulet is unique with a gift_

_That brings a way to aid us in travel_

_Here is when space and time creates a rift_

_That allows a secret to unravel_

_A new secret older than time itself_

_That creates the space to connect the worlds_

_It is greater than life, greater than wealth_

_And more valuable than diamonds or pearls_

_With this incantation, I seal our fates_

_Yet my words will now open up those gates_

It was a sonnet; the incantation was, and it was beautiful like all sonnets were to me. I wondered if Shakespeare had written that one too and it just wasn't included in his collection poems that I have read because it was lacking in iambic pentameter. I was grateful for that.

When Othello first started to recite the sonnet, nothing happened. But then, as his volume grew louder and louder as though he was building up a crescendo for the grand finale of a musical piece, something started to happen.

The world around me, Antonio's parlor room, started to dissolve away, becoming semi-solid entities. Antonio was included in this, along with the furniture and all four walls of the chamber. Everything faded away in a swirl of color except for me and my companions who were escorting me to Shakespeare. They remained solid like me, leaving Antonio's apartment behind for a connecting void where time and space didn't matter, as someone would explain to me later.

Othello continued to recite the spell over and over again and the surroundings continue to fall away into non-existence. This was a very bizarre sight. I had never seen anything quite like it. One moment, we were standing in Antonio's parlor room and the next we were in a place with silver and gold all around us. Silver light, golden light. Even the ground we were standing on was silver and gold.

Silver and gold were everywhere. This place was devoid of everything except for those two colors and the five of us. I looked around, scared and fascinated at the same time. Where had Othello taken us? This was definitely not anywhere in Shakespeare.

"Where are we?" I questioned Othello.

"We are in a world between worlds," Othello replied. "In one of the many gates that connect Shakespeare and Earth."

I continued to peer about. "But I don't see any gates."

Othello pointed.

I followed where his pointing finger lead me. A golden and silver gate was forming in the middle of the nothingness. It looked like one of those iron wrought gates and the weird thing about it was that I could see the gate clearly against the backdrop that was the same exact color.

We hurried towards the gate. I had to jog to keep up with the King's Men, who were striding very fast. Puck was fluttering of course, his wings beating quicker than the blink of an eye.

We reached the gate. Before he pulled it open, Othello's eyes found mine to ensure that I was paying full attention to him. It was hard to keep my eyes on him when I wanted to stare away at the marvel around us. I had never seen this type of a place before. It almost felt wrong to be here.

"When we go through the gate, it will feel as though you are free falling, Anne," Othello told me and I nodded in comprehension, knowing what it felt like to free-fall because of my recent flying experience. "We are going to hold hands and stick together. This is your first time traveling this way and it can be tricky to reach your destination. If you lose altitude too quickly then you can end up in the wrong place. One day, I will teach you the proper way of doing it but for now, it is best that we hold hands to keep you with us."

"Okay," I acknowledged that I understood perfectly.

We locked hands. One of Othello's hands found one of mine. His hand was rugged and calloused. I gripped it tightly despite my initial revulsion at how course his hand was. My other hand gripped one of Rosalind's. Rosalind grabbed Puck's hand with her other one and Puck held onto to Ariel.

Othello pushed the gate open without a moment's hesitation and stepped through it. His entire body disappeared, except for the hand that I was holding. I jumped and gasped before Rosalind forced me along gently. I followed Othello, stepping through the gate . . . .

Then, we were free falling, just as Othello had prepared me for. Air rushed over and under me, the wind tugging at my clothes. When everyone was through the gate, it sealed itself shut and disappeared. At the last moment, Ariel grabbed Othello's hand and we were falling, spinning head over heels while moving horizontally as well.

Then, they appeared.

They came out of nowhere and without warning. I had fear of a lot of things at that moment—like I would lose my grip on Othello's and Rosalind's hands and plunge to my death, for example—but I had not feared an attack by unknown entities.

They appeared in a tight formation, circling our tiny cluster. They were garbed in black robes and all of their faces were the same. They were hideously ugly women, each with long black hair that was wild and mangled and pale white, dead-like skin. Their eyes were blacker than night and every one of them wielded giant shears as weapons.

I screamed when I saw them. There were about a dozen in all and they all looked like the woman from—

One of them dove straight towards me so suddenly and so unexpectedly. The rest of the women hovered and stared at me with a look that was far worse than the hunger look that Caliban had given me when I had first met him. Their look was beyond hunger.

"Back you foul hag!" Othello cried, releasing Ariel's hand. In a flash, he had his sword in hand, swinging at the diving woman to drive her backwards and away from me. She was eyeing me and I knew that she wanted to get to me. Othello's sword had stopped her in her tracks. She retreated with haste and then dove a second time with a new plan.

"What's going on?" I cried. "Who is that? What does she want?"

I was surprised that anyone heard me over the sound of the rushing wind. "That's Atropos!" Rosalind warned me. "The Witch of Death! And those are her avatars!" Rosalind answered the question that I was going to answer next.

Atropos was after me. Just like Lachesis, she wanted me for something. Lachesis had wanted to bring me to Atropos so what could Atropos truly want with me?

It couldn't be good, that was for sure. After all, Atropos could take my life without much effort. If she could get her hands on me she probably had some power that could kill me instantly. Once she cut someone's thread of life, that was it for that person, and I wasn't ready for her to cut mine's; I had too much work to do and I needed to see Alice, Will, and Melody again.

Atropos swooped in closer this time—I guessed that was the true Atropos because of her persistence at trying to reach me. "The girl!" she screeched suddenly in a horrible voice. It was low and deep throated and she sounded like a hoarse man. "Give me the girl!"

"Never!" Othello hissed. "She is not ready to be claimed! There is no shadow in her eyes!"

"I am not here to claim her!" Atropos yelled. "I am here to take her to a very dear friend of mine. Now, hand her over or all of you shall perish!"

"Ariel!" Othello cried. "When I breakaway, I want you to grab Anne's hand!"

Ariel nodded and it took me approximately three seconds to comprehend what Othello had just said. He was going to breakaway. What did that—

"No!" I yelled. "No! Don't do that!"

"I have to," Othello said bravely. "She will not take you that easily. You are our top priority, Anne, and we must do whatever it takes to protect you."

"No!" I cried, feeling the tears coming for a literal cry.

"I'll come with!" Rosalind told Othello just as bravely. "You might need help with the avatars."

"No," Othello ordered her. "You are to stay with the group Rosalind and lead them to Prospero. Do not release Anne until you are back at the manor."

Rosalind nodded but her lips were pursed. She was angry that Othello would not allow her to help him fight.

"Don't do this!" I cried, pleading to Othello while fearing the worse for him. "There has to be another way!"

"There isn't!" Othello told me. "I have to do this." He looked at Ariel. "Ariel?"

"Ready, sir!" Ariel cried.

Othello nodded once. With his sword still in hand, he winked at me. How could he wink at me during a time like this? Then, he said, "Besides, I'm not ready to die yet!"

Othello released me hand and tumbled backwards towards Atropos and her horde of look-alikes. Atropos screeched and hissed as Othello twisted through the air towards her. She raised her shears and it didn't look too good for Othello. Then, at the last possible second, he twisted again and was right side up, flying towards Atropos with his sword raised. Othello gave a war cry and swung his sword. Atropos blocked it with her shears and Othello sailed past her, twisting around to come back at her again. The doppelgangers advanced on him after a signal from Atropos and the last thing I saw of Othello was that he was being swallowed by a mass of blackness . . . .

"Anne! Grab my hand!"

I realized that Ariel was calling for me and had been calling for me for a while, but I had been too wrapped up in watching the fate of Othello. I had met him only too recently and he had been an imposing presence. I had felt strangely safe with him around but now he was gone. His life was ending much differently than what I had read in the prophecy about him.

I looked at Ariel. As we continued to free-fall for what seemed like forever, I could see that she had her free hand outstretched towards me, trying to reach my free hand that Othello had abandoned.

"Anne! Grab my hand!"

I snapped out of whatever trance I was in and reached outwards to grab Ariel's hand. The first time, I missed her hand completely and the second time I wasn't close enough. The third time, I strained and stretched, giving it all that I could. Slowly, I felt myself losing my grip on Rosalind's hand. My hand was sweaty and slipping . . . .

I reached for Ariel's hand one final time and at the same time, I felt my other hand slide right out of Rosalind's hand.

I gasped and Rosalind cursed. For a moment, I was suspended in mid-air alone, Rosalind, Puck, and Ariel traveling away from me while falling away at the same time. I didn't even have a chance to look down before I took the plunge.

I was going to die.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Chapter Nine**

Rosalind, Puck, and Ariel disappeared from my view in an instant. While their fall was more guided, more directed towards their destination, mine wasn't so lucky.

I fell straight down, plummeting with so much force and velocity. Nothingness passed by me and I fell for a very long time. After a while, I was getting bored, wishing that death would just come and claim me just to get it over with. I would have even been happy to see Atropos's ugly face again. I knew I was going to die now and I would accept the fate. I wanted to accept it quickly. Why should it procrastinate?

Then, I was falling through a clear blue sky. I was no longer falling through nothingness anymore. I tumbled through a patch of fluffy clouds, my hair and clothes damp again after they had dried at the Merchant's Library. I looked down at myself and saw that I looked like a train wreck. My cardigan was filthy and my jeans were ripped. You see what I mean? I was so bored with falling that I took the time to notice that my clothes were destroyed. I guess adventure would do that to you. Not cause you to be weary of taking too long to approach your death, but make you look horrible.

I kept falling . . . and falling . . . and falling . . . . Puck, Rosalind, and Ariel were long gone by now. I wondered if they reached Prospero's manor or had they tried to turn back to look for me. I didn't know if they could find me now. I didn't know how well they had control of themselves with the whole traveling between two worlds bit but I sure as heck didn't have control of myself. Falling like this was so not like flying under an enchantment from fairy dust.

I looked down for lack of anything better to do. I could see land far below me, which meant that I was falling towards an actual town in Shakespeare. I was no longer in the world between worlds where time and space didn't exist. I was in Shakespeare.

This would have been a happy moment if I had entered Shakespeare still in the circle holding hands with Othello and Rosalind. But I wasn't in the circle anymore. The circle had first lost Othello and then it had lost me. Perhaps it had lost some of the others as well, I wasn't sure. All I knew was what happened before I fell. Maybe Puck, Rosalind, and Ariel reached their destination safely. I could only hope that they did. No one else needed to lose a life because of me because I didn't matter anymore. I would be joining Othello soon enough.

I wondered if my death would be instant or if I would suffer for a while before my last breath was drawn in. Surely falling from such a great height would cause me to die upon impact, my body breaking like glass. I then wondered what death would feel like. Would I feel cold like I had always imagined? Would my soul ascend to Heaven like Alice had promised me when I was younger? Did the world of Shakespeare even have a Heaven?

Looking down, I could see buildings now and things in nature, such as tall tress. To my left was a town with a cluster of buildings that were huddled together. To my right was a forest with great trees that seemed to guard the entrance like wary sentinels. And below me were grasslands, like never-ending plains. It looked like the land was a part of a farm. Well, at least my fall would be cushioned some, I thought grimly.

My falling continued and nothing exciting happened. I could almost see Atropos's face standing in front of my mind's eye and taunting me, while saying, "I claimed you anyways . . . ." I wondered if there was shadow in my eyes now. Othello had said that there weren't any shadows earlier, but were they there now, a recent addition as death approached slowly but surely?

From below, green rushed up to meet me. It wasn't the black of night that I had come to associate with death. Green was the color of life and rebirth so would I be spared?

I laughed at the thought. There was no way in Hades that I would be spared? No one could survive a fall like mine, unless they could perform magic. I wished I could perform magic then. If I just knew one spell, maybe it would be enough.

I could see the grass blades rustling in the wind below. There was a barn nearby and I could see cows grazing outside and horses in the stables. Down a dusty path and up a short hill, there was a quaint little farmhouse with smoke billowing from its chimney. It was the only house for miles outside of the immediate city.

I wondered who would find my body out in the fields. Would it be the old farmer who was out preparing the land for planting, or would it be the young farmhand whose first job would scar him terribly if he saw a bloodied and mangled dead body? Would it be the farmer's wife, out with her favorite horse for her daily morning ride, or worse of all, would it be the farmer's children who were out playing in the fields?

I had enough time to picture an entire family residing in the farmhouse and the reactions on all of their different faces individually if they happened to stumble across what would remain of me after impact.

Still, I fell . . . .

I was close now, close to my death. I guess this was how someone felt who knew that they were about to die—at peace and slightly content. Falling a long way down was like days of suffering for me and I just wanted it all to be over. Nothing else mattered except for preparing for my journey into the afterlife, which made me wonder if I would be going to a higher place or if I would just become worm's food after dying.

My entire life did not flash before my eyes like I thought it would. Instead, I could see different images of Alice, Melody, Will, and even my new Shakespearean friends, playing and replaying again and again in my head. I was recalling memories of those people who were dear to me, reliving moments that I had spent time with them all. Sadly, my parents were not a part of this.

Alice was present the most in my recollections, which made sense because I had spent the most time with her. Will was probably a close second and Melody was right behind him. Rosalind, Othello, and the others didn't show up much, considering I had just started to get to know them, but images of them were still significant as well. I saw Rosalind and Puck rescue me from Lachesis and then, I saw the three of us flying together. I saw myself talking to Ariel and I saw myself hugging Antonio goodbye. Lastly, I saw Othello breaking away from our circle to battle it out with Atropos and prevent her from taking me. Othello had been so brave and faced his death like a man and I would be brave too. I would be tough like Rosalind.

_I'm not ready to die yet . . . ._

Othello had told me those words before he left. Just because he wasn't ready to die didn't mean that death would pass him by just because he wasn't prepared. He had faced death in every sense of the word when he attacked Atropos. After all, she was Death herself and could control the demises of people. She was the Grim Reaper in the world of Shakespeare and when she decided it was time for you to go it was time for you to go. Before now, I hadn't been ready to die either. I had believed that I had my whole life ahead of me. I had believed that I would graduate high school next year, go off to college and finish my degree early with a lot of studying and taking summer school courses, and marry Will when it was time for that type of commitment. Then, it would be on to getting a job and having kids and growing old with Will by my side—a normal life. I had always believed that I would die old, somewhere in my late seventies or eighties, perhaps even in my nineties if only I could be so lucky. But I had been naïve. Life had a different course for me. My destiny had already been sealed. I was now going to perish at the ripe age of sixteen. I had only spent sixteen short years in life. So much for the other sixty years that I should have enjoyed.

This was it. I had reached the end now. I was at the end of the tunnel but there was no white light, just the yellowish glare from the sun overhead. Images of my friends and family faded from my mind then. I was less than a hundred feet above the grass and dropping in height. My mind was surprisingly clear as I knocked on Death's door and she was coming to answer . . . .

Fifty feet . . . .

Forty feet . . . .

Thirty feet . . . .

Twenty feet . . . .

I closed my eyes. I did not want to see this. I wanted to add a little suspense before a dramatic conclusion. I considered balling my body up as much as possible but that was unnecessary. Nearly every bone in my body would break anyways so what was the—

With a thud, I collided with the earth and everything went black.

-----------------------------------

"What do you mean you want us to sit out the initial invasion of England?" Serafin asked the Dark Lady, his voice remaining calm and conversational. "Do you think that achieving victory would be possible without our help?"

They were walking along down a corridor inside of Owen Glendower's exquisite castle in the south of Wales. The Shadow Council had traveled to Wales to meet with Glendower who wanted to update them on his contributions to the Dark Alliance and the forthcoming invasion of one of the Three Thrones, a highly anticipated event.

The Dark Lady was flanked by her usual company. King Claudius was with her, taking time off from ruling his kingdom to meet with Glendower for what was believed by the other Golden Kings to be a "diplomatic" meeting in King Henry's stead. Claudius was pretending to speak with Glendower about the growing tension between England and Wales, who were very close neighbors. Instead, the Dark Lady found it ironic how Claudius was actually helping her to instigate and widen the schism between the two countries. Kings Henry and Duncan were so naïve. They were blind to the fact that one of the Golden Rulers had betrayed them. The Dark Lady pitied them.

Caliban hadn't returned from his own mission yet, so Hotspur was once again accompanying the Shadow Council as a temporary councilor. The Dark Lady didn't mind Hotspur's presence, which had always been an inspiring one. Hotspur was so full of energy and he was always eager to carry out whatever task the Dark Lady assigned him. He was a little too eager at times, but at least Hotspur had to drive to do something. Some of the other members of the Dark Alliance tended to drag their feet, but Hotspur was just simply a livewire, a catalyst. If only he could keep his rampaging anger in check at times, the Dark Lady would be very fond of him then.

In addition to Claudius and the firebrand, Hotspur, the three councilors from the Council of Nocturne was also apart of the Dark Lady's entourage that moved through the stone corridors of the chateau. Serafin, Mordekaius, and Miltiadi walked along with the Dark Lady, Hotspur, and King Claudius, garbed in full body armor like usual. Surrounding them were their Critic bodyguards who were fully armored as well. The bodyguards were always quiet, never speaking, and always looking around like they were paranoid.

Today, the Dark Lady traveled with her own bodyguards. Tybalt and Roderigo flanked her on either side. Their poise was a little more relaxed than the Critic bodyguards, but they were still wary and their eyes kept flickering towards the armored Critics ever so often as though they were fearing an attack from their allies. Many of those who favored the Dark Lady did not trust the Critics, which was understandable since so little was known about the Critic race as a whole. Questions still tugged at the back of the Dark Lady's mind about where the Critics came from and how they managed to stumble upon the world of Shakespeare of all places?

Leading the group that traveled with the Dark Lady was Lady Mortimer, Glendower's precious daughter, and a handful of attendants who served Lady Mortimer as personal guards. All three parties were so well protected—the Critics, Lady Mortimer, and the Dark Lady.

Distrust was running rampant throughout the Dark Alliance, and the Dark Lady did not have the power to prevent it. It would always be there as long as she sought power. The more power she had, the more she would come to distrust the Critics, her additional allies such as Glendower, and her close followers. People always craved more power and they would do anything to achieve their own selfish ends, even if it involved getting rid of whoever currently held the power. Right now, the Dark Lady held most of the power within the Dark Alliance and she intended to keep it that way once she was crowned Queen of Shakespeare, which meant that she would have competition for the throne within and outside of her organization. Most of those contenders would be too weak to attack her outright and those would be the ones she would be able to control. Others would have the audacity to challenge her but she would use her weaklings to thwart them and remain untouchable and with ultimate power.

But her decision not include the Critics in the opening battle of the ensuing war had nothing to do with distrust. She had come to this conclusion with the sole intent on saving the Critic troops to make a grand entrance during a later and crucial battle. She didn't want to reveal to the King's Men that the Critics were on her side too early in the game. Although they speculated that her and the Critics had formed some kind of alliance, they still weren't sure if the rumors they were hearing from their spies were true. She wanted to surprise them, to overwhelm them and that was why she wanted to keep the Critics out of the invasion of England. Their time would come and the Dark Lady hoped that Serafin and his comrades would understand her theory.

The Dark Lady explained her theory to Serafin and the other Critics, who listened to her without arguing. They didn't say anything until she was finished. Her point had been short and succinct but she felt that it had gotten the job done. She felt that it would almost be enough to convince them.

"Do you really think that would be a good idea?" Mordekaius, the military strategist, asked curiously. The Dark Lady had expected him to ask such a question. "The King's Men and all of the people who are worthy to fight with our enemy outnumber us? You will need all of the help you can get."

"I think that our numbers will suffice," the Dark Lady told him with confidence. "It will be a surprise attack. They will not be expecting us. We could march in with a dozen men and deal considerable damage before we meet much resistance. And we have a lot more soldiers at the ready than just twelve men, Councilor."

"Besides," Lady Mortimer spoke up and out of nowhere. The Dark Lady was surprised that she dared to even address the Shadow Council without being acknowledged. It was rude and the Dark Lady would only forgive her if she had something of value to add to their conversation. She was no soldier after all, so what she could have to say that was of value was beyond the Dark Lady. "My father is a very powerful, very influential man. If its soldiers you need, he'll supply you. He has legions of people awaiting his command."

The Dark Lady cocked her head to the side. Well, what Lady Mortimer had to say really didn't classify as being too valuable but she had made a good point other than calling her father a powerful man. Sure, he was influential but he wasn't very powerful. He was only the leader of Wales, a small nation who cowered under the strength of England. Glendower needed the Dark Alliance just as much as the Dark Alliance needed him if he ever was going to conquer England.

That was why the Shadow Council was visiting him today. Glendower claimed that he had more troops to provide. He was eager to invade England and so were his men he had said. The Dark Lady would be sure to have Glendower's eager soldiers fighting on the frontlines as often as possible.

"I can see that you make a valid point, Councilor," Miltiadi pointed out, ignoring Lady Mortimer's remark. The Dark Lady was surprised that he had spoken—he was usually so placidly silent—and she listened and waited for the "but". She knew that it wasn't going to be too easy to convince the Critic leaders of her plan. "We should remain out of the contest for as long as possible and when the King's Men least suspect it, the Critics should join the fray and create the type of chaos that will overwhelm the soldiers who are fighting to defend the Three Thrones from foreign invasions. However"—that was not quite the word that the Dark Lady had been expecting but there it was anyways—"your intentions to keep us out of the initial battle have me worried. Have we not gained your complete trust yet, Councilor?"

"Trust is not an issue here," The Dark Lady told him semi-truthfully.

"Then what is?" Miltiadi was curious to hear her response.

The Dark Lady looked at Mordekaius, her dark eyes barely visible behind her mask of tragedy. "Strategy. Mordekaius of all people should understand this. If the Critics participate in the invasion of England, then the King's Men will know officially that we are allied and they will stop at nothing to learn all that they can about their new enemy. The King's Men will study you relentlessly and learn how the Critics attack, what defensive measures that your soldiers use and so forth. Once the King's Men know more about who they are fighting, it may give them an advantage in future contests and we don't want that, at least not until we are deep into the war that is sure to come. If we cause the King's Men to believe that they are fighting only a portion of the Dark Alliance, then we will have the advantage. Am I not right, Councilor Mordekaius?"

Mordekaius nodded at once as if the Dark Lady was controlling him with imaginary strings. "An effective strategy," he said. "I agree with it and I understand your intentions, Councilor. This has been your rebellion from the start and we have imposed on the glory that you seek from your first major defeat of the enemy."

"No, I do not seek glory in that respect, Councilor," the Dark Lady corrected him. "I have no other intentions than the ones that I have implied. This is _our _rebellion, _our _alliance, and we shall definitely fight alongside each other when the time is right."

Hotspur smiled. He was growing more and more eager to fight with each passing day. He couldn't wait to see the look on King Henry's face when the Golden King became aware that it had been he all along who was instructed the peasants and other lowlifes to revolt, to insinuate anarchy, so that the Dark Alliance could come in and take out what was left behind—clean up the mess.

The Dark Lady looked at him and watched him for a moment. Even his gait was changing. He carried himself with an air of importance. Perhaps filling in temporarily for the absent Caliban was going to his head. Hotspur was becoming more and more cocky and the Dark Lady found it mildly attractive.

"The time is very close now," Hotspur said proudly. "So close I can smell it." He then inhaled deeply for dramatic effect.

"Patience, my boy, patience," Serafin reminded him before returning his attention to the Dark Lady. "Although Councilor Mordekaius agree with you, we shall discuss this matter more in council. Then, we will make a final decision through voting and if we have to bring in a seventh, then so be it."

"Fair enough," the Dark Lady agreed with the wise Serafin. Even though Serafin seemed to be against her plan, she felt at ease and as cool as the other side of the pillow. With Mordekaius seeing eye to eye with her, that was all it took. Claudius and Hotspur would agree with her automatically—the two sides of three tended to stick together when making important decision like two political parties campaigning against each other and a seventh voter, a third party, was often needed to break a tie—and with Mordekaius on her side, she already had the majority. A seventh wouldn't be needed as Serafin had predicted or had wanted.

Lady Mortimer led the group to a set of giant oak doors at the rear of the castle. Several of her attendants broke off from the group and opened the doors up for the important people whom they were happy to be in company.

"Milady," one of the attendants referred to Lady Mortimer as she stepped through the doorway. "Councilors and friends." The attendant added when the Dark Lady's entourage swept through as well.

They were outside in a courtyard, the sun shining bright overhead—a beautiful dawn. Stairs went up to a higher level to the left and stairs went down to a lower level to the right. The courtyard was vast, spanning several hundred yards all around. It was the top of a stone wall that overlooked the outer yard of the castle. This was where the archers would stand if the castle was overrun and perimeter defenses were overwhelmed. It was Owen Glendower's favorite spot to stand. He could view nearly his entire estate from up there.

Glendower was currently standing near the edge, staring down at something that no one walking up behind him could see quite yet. He was standing with his own entourage. Henry Percy, Hotpur's father, was present, along with Hotspur's wife, Katherine Percy. Henry Percy was the Earl of Northumberland, a province of England. Percy's brother, Thomas Percy, the Earl of Worcester, was also there, and so was the Earl of Douglas—a province of Scotland—Archibald Douglas. His presence there was peculiar as he served under King Duncan. How fascinating it was that Glendower managed to secure an ally of Scotland. Hopefully, it would make things easier for the Dark Alliance when they were ready to besiege Scotland, the last of the Three Thrones they planned to take. And last but not least, Edmund Mortimer, Lady's Mortimer's husband, was also there, standing by the side of his father-and-law.

Glendower approached the Dark Lady's party when he saw them.

"Father, your guests are here," Lady Mortimer announced.

"Excellent, excellent," Glendower said, smiling. His face seemed to be bursting at the seams with excitement. He was eager to show the Shadow Council his product and the Dark Lady was eager to see it herself. There was no doubt in anyone's mind that Glendower was vying for a spot on the Shadow Council. He had wanted to replace Caliban during the leader of the Sycorax's absence and he also mentioned his own name when there were talks of adding a seventh permanent member. The Critics and the Dark Lady hadn't seen the problems that could arise when there was an even number of Councilors. They had just wanted to be twice as powerful as the leadership of the Three Thrones and that had blinded them. Needless to say though, if Glendower proved himself today then the Dark Lady would say that he was definitely in the running to join the Shadow Council. She was sure that the Critics would object because they would want another Critic member obviously and that would just create more problems. Sometimes, the Dark Lady started to regret forming an alliance with the Critics.

Glendower held his arms out wide. "Welcome to my humble abode," he greeted his visitors. "I have something very important to show you. But first, I would like for you to meet some very important friends of mine."

The people who had been standing with Glendower near the wall's edge came over then. Hotspur greeted his father first and then his wife. They embraced quickly and their kiss disgusted the Dark Lady.

Glendower made introductions. He first pointed at Henry Percy. The Dark Lady knew of all of these people because Hotspur had told her all about them but she listened to the formal introductions anyway, finding herself looking at Lady Percy in disgust from time to time.

"This is Master Henry Percy, father to young Henry here," Glendower said prior to pointing at Hotspur. "Young Henry's wife, Katherine," he continued with the introductions. "That charming fellow right there is Master Thomas Percy. Next to him is Master Archibald Douglas of Scotland. And my son-in-law, Master Edmund Mortimer."

The Critics introduced themselves then and so did King Claudius, although he had met some of them already. The Dark Lady didn't worry about introducing herself since Glendower's friends seemed to know too much about her already and referred to her as Mistress Lanier. The Dark Lady didn't like using her given name much but it was common knowledge that she was the heir of Lanier Castle. That was all anyone knew about her. There was no one in the world who knew what her first name was, how old she was, and what she looked like. The Dark Lady was so shrouded in mystery that she would excuse her last name being used sparingly.

The Dark Lady also didn't bother with introducing Tybalt and Roderigo. They were not important; they were pawns and nothing more.

"Now that the pleasantries have been honored," Glendower spoke afterwards, "allow to me to show you a fraction of the Dark Army." He grinned. "Follow me."

Glendower turned and marched back to the wall's edge. Everyone followed him as instructed. Mortimer and Lady Mortimer were walking hand-in-hand and the Dark Lady regarded them for a moment. They didn't make her feel queasy as much as Hotspur and Lady Percy who couldn't keep their hands off of each other. And Lady Percy wasn't particularly a good catch either, in the Dark Lady's opinion. Whatever Hotspur saw in her was mind boggling.

"The Dark Lady tells us that you have acquired a multitude of soldiers, Master Glendower," Mordekaius made conversation with Glendower.

Glendower nodded. "Yes, I have," he said. "It wasn't easy and I didn't get the job done by myself, of course." He chuckled. "No I had a lot of help from friends and associates that I have made over the years. It is because of Master Douglas here that I have about three times the amount of soldiers than what I started with. Apparently, there are many Scots who dislike their king as much as the English."

Douglas chuckled too. "It's all about dislike," he commented. "In England, it is more so about legitimacy because Henry is not the true king. Master Mortimer here should be king and for that reason many Englishmen despise King Henry. In Scotland, we just have sheer hatred towards Duncan, the benevolent king. The king who can't take charge at all and fight his own battles. If it wasn't for Macbeth then Duncan wouldn't be where he is today I can assure you of that."

"Macbeth?" Claudius echoed with curiosity. "Who is this Macbeth that you speak of, Master Douglas?"

"The _Macbeth_, your Highness," Douglas told him. "Surely, you have heard of his exploits by now."

"I haven't," Claudius told him. "Tales from Scotland rarely reach Denmark, I'm afraid."

"Yet the countries are so close together," Douglas pointed out. "But never mind that, I shall tell you a little bit about Macbeth. Macbeth is a competent warrior, a thane in the Scottish army. He, however, is not a member of the King's Men and I have people who are currently trying to get him to join our cause. His wife, Lady Macbeth, is already hooked and we just need Macbeth to cross sides now; however, it will be difficult at the moment because Macbeth is loyal to Duncan and he is away right now, fighting the rebel Macdonwald, who has a small band of Norwegian soldiers on his side."

"This Macbeth is a competent warrior, you say?" Claudius perked up. "Then, he is definitely worthy of joining our cause."

The Dark Lady thought about Lady Macbeth then. When Macbeth returned from his trip, she had better convinced her husband to join the Dark Alliance. The Dark Lady remembered giving Lady Macbeth another chance on that night the Relics disappeared—a night she tried to forget.

"Behold, your new soldiers!" Glendower exclaimed as they reach the edge of the wall.

The Dark Lady stepped up and peered downwards and she tightened her jaw to keep her mouth from falling open. Glendower had not only done his job but he had done it well. He had legions and legions of men standing downstairs in the yard. They were lined up in a tight formation, hundreds of armored warriors across in rows and hundreds of armored warriors up and down in columns.

This was truly a glorious sight. It was splendid, magnificent, and the Dark Lady couldn't understand why she was feeling faint all of a sudden.

Glendower spoke then but his words sounded so far away. The Dark Lady swayed on her feet before she blacked out and fell back into Claudius and Serafin.

Claudius caught her. "Milady!" he called. "Milady!"

A flash of a girl crossed the Dark Lady's mind eye and the very brief vision was gone. The Dark Lady was feeling better instantaneously. Even so, she wondered what had just happened to her because that wasn't the first time that something like that had happened to her . . . .

--------------------------------------------

I took in a deep breath and opened my eyes.

The sky was a pale and brilliant blue overhead. The sun's glare blinded me but I didn't care about the sky or the sun. I was just happy to be alive, even after wanting death to come to me so badly. I had been suffering then and I had been thinking irrationally. I hadn't really wanted to die, but dying at the time seemed to be a better alternative than suffering for some long.

But now, I was alive. I was stunned, in disbelief. I had fallen so far. I had blacked out and thought I was dead. But I had seen nothing but unconsciousness. I hadn't seen a white light or the fiery gates of Hell. All I saw was black and now, I could see the blue and yellow of the sky and the sun.

The grass was soft underneath my body and seemed to conform to my body's shape. I moved and found that I could do so easily without much discomfort. I was a little stiff but there was no pain. How long had I been out and why did I not have any broken bones? My body should have been crushed. It was a miracle.

I sat up and felt slightly dizzy because of the blood rushing back to my head. When the vertigo was cleared, I looked around. I was alone and it took me a second to remember where I was.

I was in Shakespeare. I was alive and in Shakespeare, which made me smile slightly. But then, I remembered that I was alone. Puck, Rosalind, and Ariel were probably back at the headquarters of the King's Men. I wondered if they had told Prospero yet about what happened to Othello and me. I wondered if they would look for me or assume that I was dead. I believed with all of my heart that Rosalind would search for me. She wouldn't ride me off that easily and I knew that Puck would probably be right along there with her. I wondered what Will would think if he ever caught wind of what happened to me. And then, I thought about Othello who was more than likely dead because of me. That would be a huge blow to the King's Men. He was supposedly one of their best men and now, he was gone. I never got to know how great he was because I had barely seen him in action. He was very brave; I knew that much about him, brave to the very end. If I ever found the King's Men, I would be sure to tell them that they should honor Othello's memory.

I was sitting in a field on a huge farm. From that position, the grass blades were nearly as tall as I was. I looked through the grass and up the hill. The farmhouse seemed to be miles away. I debated if I wanted to walk up to the house and check to see if anyone was home. Whoever lived there might be able to help me find Prospero's manor because I didn't know where I was exactly. Then, I spotted a road straight ahead. The road was a lot closer to my current position and I was sure that it led to the town that I had seen while falling. Surely, someone in the town would be able to assist me.

I stood up slowly, swaying on the spot. I wasn't injured but I was definitely disoriented. I regained my bearings and walked slowly through the grass towards the road. It felt weird to be alone here. I didn't know where I was going really. Sure, there was a town heading to the left—let's just call that way west for lack of a better term—but I didn't know what I would find there, or whom I would run into. I was a stranger here and people were sure to notice that I wasn't Shakespearean by my attire. I wouldn't be able to fool many people; however, my outfit was simple, wasn't too flashy, so maybe I wouldn't attract too much attention.

Yeah right. I would stand out like a sore thumb.

I reached the road. It twisted away from me for miles and I couldn't even see the town that I had seen on my way down. Walking wasn't necessarily something I enjoyed a whole lot but I was about to get plenty of it. I wished I had exercised more. I was terribly out of shape.

I stepped onto the road, took a deep breath, and headed down the path. There was nothing surrounding me except farmlands. For forever the grassy fields and towering trees seemed to stretch, so peaceful and picturesque, nature at its best. I found it really easy to think while I walked. The air was so clear and so was my mind. I was able to focus my thoughts on visualizing what I wanted to visualize. As I walked, I was able to separate the jumbled mess inside of my head and reflect on one thing at a time.

Atropos was the first thing that came to mind and couldn't help wondering what she wanted with me? She swore that she didn't want me dead and I had proof because not only did she say so herself, but I had also just survived a trillion feet fall. Nobody could survive a fall like that. I should have been a crumpled mess in a crater thirty feet deep that I had created when I crash-landed, but instead I was alive and well. My brain was functioning. I could breathe properly and my heart was still beating.

I was convinced that Atropos desires for me had to do with the Seven Relics. That was all I was good for, that was my destiny. My only purpose of coming to Shakespeare was to find the Seven Relics and nothing else. It was almost as if I was born to carry out that task.

Now _why_ someone who could cause death would want to acquire the Seven Relics, I had no idea? It was peculiar, yet that was the only reasonable explanation that I could come up with was that Atropos wanted the Relics as well.

I laughed aloud suddenly, as I shifted thoughts. I remembered previous conversations about the Relics and I wondered if finding the Relics would be as simple as one two three. I had thought that somehow their locations would just pop into my head the moment I came to Shakespeare but of course, they didn't. I had no more of a general idea of where they were hidden now than before I left the Merchant's Library. That was the important piece that was missing from my assignment. I was the one who could find the Relics, yet I didn't even know where to begin to look for them. Whoever placed the enchantment on the Henry IV manuscript—prophecy—had made a mistake. They had forgotten a very important clause and the irony of the situation was amusing to me somehow.

I walked on. How far had I traveled? I had only been walking for a few minutes but it felt like ages already. I looked back. The farmhouse was far away now and so was the field I had landed in. I looked ahead again and I still couldn't see the town yet. Knowing it was there though, I continued to walk, hoping I would reach the first signs of the town really soon.

My feet ached and the sudden appearance of a headache was making it hard to think. I needed a plan. The quicker I found someone who could actually help me, the quicker I could be reunited with the King's Men. And the quicker I was reunited with the King's Men, the quicker I could get this quest over with and then I could return home to Alice and Melody. I was missing them terribly and what made it worse was that I didn't know how long I would be away from them. Surely, time passed differently here in Shakespeare than it did back home but the search for the Seven Relics could take forever, considering that I didn't know where a single freaking one was located.

It was frustrating. Why did I even agree to this in the first place? It was stupid of me. I was lost, wandering around somewhat aimlessly and Othello was dead, dead because he had been trying to keep me safe from harm.

I couldn't live with the guilt of knowing that someone died while trying to protect me. It had been honorable of Othello, so noble, but it shouldn't have been that way. This wouldn't happen if I hadn't been Curious George during my job interview with Antonio. I should never have read from the prophecy. That had screwed up everything. In fact, I wished that Will had never told me about the prophecies in the first place.

But what was done was done and no matter how much time I spent wishing for this and wishing for that, I couldn't erase the past. Will had told me about the prophecies and how he had always wanted to read from them but Antonio wouldn't let him. I couldn't change that and I couldn't change me reading from the prophecy and everything that came afterwards. The only way I could fix the mess that I was in was to carry out my objective. I had to find the Seven Relics.

I ignored my headache and tried to think, to clear my head again and focus on the positives. In regards to the Seven Relics, I had a head start. It wasn't much but I had some information about the Relics already. I knew what two out of the seven Relics were at least. Rosalind and the others had confirmed that Leah's ring was a Relic and I also knew that Yorick's skull was also a Relic. My dreams had helped me acquire that information and I was glad that they were good for something and not just nightly, fragmented, imaginations that my sub-conscious mind liked to create. If I could manage to find those two items perhaps they would help me somehow to find the others, or at least help me to be able to recognize what the other five were.

Then, I had it. Caliban knew! He was with the Dark Lady that night when the Relics disappeared. He was present in my dreams. He had given her Leah's ring, which he had stolen from Antonio. I was so happy to have remembered this that I had nearly forgotten that I didn't like Caliban and would rather not see him ever again.

My happiness evaporated like water on the street during a warm summer's day. Caliban was the only one I knew about who could tell me what the Seven Relics were, the only one who could help me with that information. I was still on my own in locating the Relics but Caliban could give me some tips; however, I knew that my repulsion of him would factor in my decision on whether or not to ask him for help once I was back with the King's Men. On top of that, I wondered how willing he would be to help me. Caliban was selfish and only cared about one person—and that was Caliban. What sneaky little conditions would he set up in exchange for aiding me? He would want some sort of deal out of it all, a deal that would benefit him. I had nothing to offer him, so what would he want?

Clip-clop! Clip-clop!

The sound of hooves coming up the road behind me startled me out of my thoughts. They were thundering along, coming up fast. I spun around and saw five horses galloping along the path. Three were out in front, leading the way and moving swiftly as though they were racing. Atop all five of the steeds were five different men. I could make them out even at such a great distance.

I breathed a sigh of relief. People were coming. They were strangers but I would flag them down and request their assistance on getting to Prospero's manor—forget what Alice had always told me about never talking to strangers.

I stopped walking and waited. I needed to rest anyways and I wanted to ready myself to try and stop the five men as they passed. Would they overlook me or would they notice that I wasn't from around these parts?

The three who were leading the pack raced straight towards me. I could hear them laughing as the gap between us shrunk. The other two remained at the rear of the group, preferring to move at a much slower pace than their companions.

I stepped off of the road and shielded my eyes from the sun. It was brightest in the direction where the men were coming from and I made a visor over my eyes with my hand so that I could see how close they were, watching for them to approach.

It didn't take long. The ones who were racing each other, galloped past me in a frenzy, laughing and cackling like madmen.

"Hey!" I yelled as loud as I could. "Hey!"

One of them looked back, a young man with long blond hair. "Hey!" I called again, waving my arms around like a maniac. The blond man stopped his horse, which caught the attention of the other two men who were with him.

"Giving up, Poins?" One of the men asked the blond-haired guy, who was named Poins. My brain processed the information and I knew who Poins was from Shakespearean literature. So who were his companions? Poins was usually in the presence of Bardolph, Peto, John Falstaff, or even better Prince Harry, the heir to the throne of England. Did that mean that I had fallen close to England? It was possible since I had been traveling to the headquarters for the King's Men, which was located in the center of the Three Thrones. If I were near England, then my destination would be closer than I had imagined.

"Never," Poins said with a smile. "Why would I give up if I was winning?"

"What do you mean you were winning?" The same guy who addressed Poins earlier asked him another question. He had hair that was shorter than Poins's and was very dark brown, almost black in color. "_I _was winning."

The third man scoffed. He had reddish-blond hair that was tied in a ponytail. "Bardolph, you were not winning. You were in last place my friend."

Poins laughed and Bardolph scowled. "So you think you were winning then, Peto?" Bardolph asked the ponytail man.

Peto nodded and stroked his horse. "As if you even have to ask," he said. "I always come in first place."

"There's only one way for this to be decided," Poins stated. "We ask her."

His eyes fell upon me and it was kind of embarrassing. I wanted to look away as he stared at me with a gaze of longing. Apparently, guys were the same everywhere. Whenever they saw a girl, the first thing that came to mind was to check her out. Poins was checking me out, trying to decide if I was worth hitting on or not and I didn't like the way he was ogling me. It made me feel very uncomfortable.

Then, I had Bardolph and Peto looking at me as well. It was really hard to stand there in the gaze of three men who was trying to figure out if they had a shot with me or not.

"So, she is the reason why you stopped, Poins?" Bardolph said with a smile, no longer concerned with their trivial race. I am not tooting my own horn when I say that I was more important than an argument over whose horse was the fastest. "I must say, that if I saw this marvel of beauty first, I would have stopped too." He had said that last line louder than the first, hoping that I would hear his compliment. Marvel of beauty? How lame.

Bardolph tugged at his horse's reins and his horse walked towards me. Poins and Peto followed him.

"Greetings, fair maiden," Poins greeted me. "Do you travel alone?"

I nodded. "Yes, I travel alone," I informed him. "I was separated from my friends and I was wondering if you could help me find them."

"We might be interested in helping you," Peto said. "But first, I must tell you that you are a sparkling ray of sunshine and the fairest of all maidens I have ever laid my eyes upon."

"Um, thanks," I said, blushing. I mean, what else could you say to that?

"My eyes have never known beauty until they have seen you," Peto continued. Sitting on his horse next to him, Bardolph rolled his eyes. "You are beauty itself, even if your clothes are soiled and strange-looking."

"Where are you from?" Poins was curious. "Are you from Heaven because you must be an angel?"

Bardolph rolled his eyes again. "We ask you this because we have never seen attire like that around here. Are you from one of the free lands?"

"Are you from Padua?" Peto asked. "The girls from Padua dress funny anyways."

I shook my head. "I am not from the free lands or Padua and I am definitely not from Heaven," I told them, trying to answer all of their questions. "I am from—" I hesitated then, not wanting to tell them that I was from the human world. How would they react if I revealed such precious information to them? I decided that I did not want them to know that I was from the human world. I racked my brains. Would could I tell them? "I am from"—aw, what the heck, it was the only place I could think of—"I am from . . . America!" I cried.

The three of them looked confused at the same time.

"America?" Poins echoed.

"I am not familiar with a place called America," Bardolph admitted.

"Me neither," Peto said.

_Good_, I thought to myself. I was glad that they had never heard of America. That way they would not know that I was from the human world.

"Where is America located?" Bardolph questioned me. "I have never heard of it."

"You know, it is far away from the Three Thrones," I replied, stuttering through most of my response and trying to utilize Shakespearean vocabulary that I knew. "And far away from the free lands. It is west of here and—"

"In the unexplored regions?" Peto cut me off. "You are from the unexplored regions?"

_Sure, why not?_

I nodded.

"Amazing," Bardolph said. "I didn't think that people lived there."

"Fair lady, we would be honored if you would join us for dinner and tell us what it is like where you come from," Poins said.

"I'm afraid that I am not hungry," I said and at the same time my stomach betrayed me by growling loudly. "And I do not have time for dinner. I must find my friends. It is important."

"What is your name, dear one?" Peto ignored what I had just said and questioned me. "We were so caught up in your radiance that we are forgetting pleasantries here."

I thought carefully about this as well before I responded. "My name is Natalie Wentworth," I lied to the three of them. I had almost used Melody's name but I loved her too much to do that. Besides, if anyone started referring to me as Melody, then that would cause me to think about my best friend often and how much I missed her. Oh, how I missed her and Alice so much. Therefore, I chose to use the name of my worse enemy. I wouldn't like being called Natalie for as long as I was in the company of Peto, Poins, and Bardolph, but at least the name would keep my mind off of the people I cared about.

"Nice to meet you Miss Wentworth," Poins said, bowing low even on the back of his steed. He looked ridiculous and Peto laughed at him.

"Please just call me Natalie," I told him, not liking the whole first and last name reference even though I wasn't using my true name.

"Very well then, Miss Wentworth—I mean, Natalie," Poins said. He pointed at himself. "I'm Poins and these are my friends, Bardolph and Peto." He introduced himself and the others.

"Nice to meet you," I said, remembering my manners.

"Now, Natalie, as I was saying earlier, we would be delighted if you would eat dinner with us," Poins repeated.

"I can't, I'm sorry," I reminded him. "I have to find my friends."

"We'll help you," Bardolph offered. "We promise that we will help you after we get some food. We are starving."

Poins rubbed his belly. "Yes, I am pretty famished."

"So, will you join us?" Peto asked hopefully.

If it were the only way that they would help me, then I would eat dinner with them. I didn't have time to waste by arguing with them.

"Sure, I'll join you for dinner," I said. "But afterwards, do I have your word that you will help me find my friends?"

"Definitely," Peto said and I had the impression that he was either lying or had no interest in helping me.

There was laughter suddenly behind me. Then, a voice spoke. "I can't believe you three," the voice said. It sounded young and handsome, if a voice could sound handsome and it reminded an awful lot of Will's voice. "Really are we trading service in exchange for a date with a pretty young woman? Have you guys really stooped so low?"

I spun around and I was so shocked at what I saw that I nearly collapsed. The other two men had rejoined their friends. One was older with gray hair and the second one was younger. It was the younger one who had spoken and he looked just like . . . .

"Will?" I said aloud before I could stop myself.

Luckily for me, no one heard me as Poins was saying at the same time. "What are you talking about? We just invited Natalie here to join us for dinner. We are not trying to court her, honestly."

"Speak for yourself," I heard Bardolph whisper. I didn't look at him though. My eyes were fixed upon the newcomer.

Upon a closer inspection, I could see that he was definitely not Will, although there were a lot of similarities. The young man was ruggedly handsome and his brown hair was wild and cool looking like Will's. He even had green eyes too. There were several physical differences between him and Will obviously, because even though they looked alike they were definitely not twins and probably not even related for that matter. The difference that stood out the most immediately was that the young man appeared to be only a few years older than me and could sprout a full beard. The beard made him looked older and mature and I liked it. I didn't think that he would look very attractive without it.

"She is definitely beautiful," the older man threw in his opinion. I pulled my eyes away from the handsome younger man long enough to get a good glimpse at the other newcomer. He was definitely not as inviting as his friend.

There was something familiar about his salty gray hair, his wide frame, and the jovial look on his face. This man was John Falstaff and I had to be careful about what I said around him. This man was in league with the Dark Lady. I had seen him scheming with her from time to time in my dreams.

Falstaff winked at me; he was known as a womanizer in the prophecies that I had read about him. I couldn't see why women fell for him in the first place. He was not good looking at all. His friend, on the other hand, was very pleasant to look at.

I turned away from Falstaff, not wanting to look at him anymore, especially the lusty look on his face. Out of reflex, my eyes returned to the younger man. He was looking at me now and I didn't mind if he stared at me all day.

I knew that I needed to get a grip on myself and I knew that I had only broke up with my boyfriend a few hours ago—although time was different here in Shakespeare— but I couldn't help the initial attraction that I was feeling for this stranger. Maybe I was feeling that way because he reminded me so much of Will, which made me feel weirder for feeling that way in the first place.

"Forgive my friends, milady, they sometimes forget how to act in the presence of a woman," the young man addressed me.

I snapped out of some kind of a trance and realized that he had been talking to me.

"Oh, oh," I stuttered nervously. "It was okay, really. I'm used to it."

The young man laughed. "I'm sure that you are."

Falstaff brought his horse towards me, pushing his way past the young man's horse. He held down a hand for me to shake and I hesitated. I didn't know where that hand had been so I didn't want to shake it.

"John Falstaff," he introduced himself as if I didn't already know who he was. "_Sir _John Falstaff," he emphasized his social status. "It's a pleasure to make acquaintances with such a charming young lady."

Charming? I barely said anything. I loved how they all assumed so much about me, except for the handsome young man of course.

I tentatively held out my hand. "Charmed," I said sarcastically and no one caught my sardonic tone of voice.

Then, Falstaff gripped my hand tightly. I tried to pull it away but he held on to it with so much force. He then tried to bend over and kiss my hand like a gentleman but nearly toppled off of his horse's back. His friends laughed and during the commotion, I wriggled my hand free.

"Always such a gentleman, you are Falstaff," Poins said, roaring with laughter.

Falstaff flushed and straighten up the feathered cap that he was wearing on his head. "I thought I could bend over that far," he said, embarrassed.

"If you stop drinking so much liquor and lose a few inches around the middle there you'll be all right," Peto joked.

Everyone laughed except for me. I didn't find Peto's insult to be very funny. I would have expected Falstaff to side with me and to be mad at Peto, but he was laughing as well. Apparently, they all acted like this all the time.

"Ahoy, you're the one to joke laddie," Falstaff chortled. "If you knock back a few more tankards, then you will be as round as I am."

Peto stopped laughing and examined his own belly. "You're right," he said with a chuckle. "I need to cut back on drinking."

"Like you can," Poins pointed out. "Getting drunk is the only thing that you live for, huh Peto?"

Peto laughed even harder then.

"That and robbing coaches," Bardolph said.

Poins smacked him on the back of the head out of nowhere.

"What?" Bardolph asked, trying to figure out why Poins had hit him.

Poins pointed at me. "We're in the presence of a lady, remember?"

"Oh, right," Bardolph said. "My mistake. I forgot."

There were more chuckles and I was tired of it. The more time we wasted by joking around, the longer it would take before I could return home.

"Excuse me, fellows," I spoke up. "But I really must find my friends. We need to go on and eat dinner so you all can help me and I can be on my way."

"Right," Poins said. "Let's go and eat."

"Where are we going to go?" Peto asked.

Falstaff looked around at the group. "Any suggestions?"

"The tavern?" Peto and Bardolph said at the same time.

"No, we will not be dining at the tavern today," the young man said. "We shall dine at my father's castle."

Poins laughed. "You're joking, right, your Highness? You know our kind is not welcomed in your father's home."

_Your Highness?_

"What my father doesn't know won't hurt him," the young man said. "Besides, he can't stop me from having a few friends over for a meal."

"Your Highness?" I echoed aloud. "You're royalty?"

"Yes, he's a prince," Bardolph said at once. "Do you not know who he is?"

I shook my head, although I was beginning to put two and two together.

"Thank you, Bardolph," the young man said sarcastically. "If I wanted her to know that I am a prince, I would have told her myself."

"You're Prince Harry, King Henry's son?" I asked knowledgably, not thinking before I spoke. It didn't matter anyways. Royal families were always popular and my question implied that I had heard of Prince Harry, even all the way in America, the fictitious Shakespearean place where I had said that I had come from.

"I prefer to be called Hal, thank you very much," Harry—Hal—spoke in the airy tone of a prince, mocking his own social standing in society. His friends laughed at his humor. "But yes," he said, his voice returning to normal. "I am Prince Harry."

"My name is Natalie Wentworth," I introduced myself, using my fake alias. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Your Highness." I bowed. It seemed proper to do that at that time.

Hal laughed and I straightened up. "Please, like I said, call me Hal," he told me. "And please don't bow to me. I don't like people knowing that I am a prince, let alone acknowledging me as such. Just think of me as your typical English citizen. Don't place me in such a lofty position. I am not above you."

"Natalie is not from around these parts," Bardolph informed Hal. "She is from America."

I groaned silently, hoping that neither Hal nor Falstaff knew that America was two continents in the human world. I didn't know how much access Hal had to the human world being the son of a ruler of one of the Three Thrones and I didn't know how much access to such information Falstaff had as well since he was a member of the Dark Alliance, as the Dark Lady and her faction liked to call themselves nowadays.

"America?" Hal echoed and Falstaff frowned, thinking. "Where is America?"

Before I could speak and get the subject off of America, Peto chimed in by saying, "In the unexplored regions, Hal."

"You're from the unexplored regions, Natalie?" Hal questioned me.

I nodded. "Yes, I guess I am."

"My father would love to hear about your life there," Hal told me. "He has been trying to convince the other kings to explore the land out west for years now. He will be impressed. Maybe, finally, he can send a team out there to meet your people. Do you live in large states or in tight-knit communities? I heard the people that come from the west are migrant people, moving from one place to the next."

"States definitely," I replied, wishing that the question session would just end. I was ready to get back to the King's Men so that we could search for the Seven Relics. I needed to get away from Hal and his friends, although I wouldn't mind it at all if Hal went wherever I went. He reminded me of Will a lot but he also took my mind off of Will too because he was different, a new object of my attraction. And since when did I get all weak in knees for boys? It had all started with Will . . . .

Bardolph's stomach growled then and it saved me from more questions about America. "Enough talk!" he complained. "Let's go eat and then, we can talk all we want to."

"Right," Peto agreed. "Natalie? You can ride with me."

Falstaff shook his head. "No, she can ride with me."

"No, with me," Poins said forcibly, all the while grinning at me with a dopey debonair-like grin. It wasn't dashing at all.

"I think that Natalie will be safer if she rides with me," Hal spoke up, taking charge. Sometimes, you could tell by the way he acted that he was a noble.

Peto mocked bowed. "Of course, Your Majesty, Natalie will be honored to ride with you."

Everyone laughed and Hal shot Peto a dirty look, before grinning himself.

With it settled whom I was riding with, I walked over to Hal's horse. He reached down to help me up onto the back of his horse. I grabbed a hold of his arm and he was surprisingly strong. He pulled me up onto the horse behind him with one arm. Once I was secure on the back of the horse, I realized that this would be the first time that I had ever ridden on a horse. I looked down. The ground wasn't so far away but I was still scared of falling off, especially once we got moving. I wrapped my arms around Hal's chest tightly and I suddenly wanted to lay my head on his back. But I shook away that thought. After all, I barely knew him and that would just be plain weird.

"Um, Natalie," Hal called.

"Huh?" I asked stupidly.

"You might wanna, uh, loosen up your hold there, buddy," Hal told me. "I can't breathe."

"Oh, right," I said. I had been squeezing him too tightly.

I loosened my arms around Hal's chest. "Thanks," he said, looking at his friends. "Let's go."

The five horses took off at a steady trot, thundering down the road. Hal and Falstaff hung back towards the rear of the group, while Poins, Peto, and Bardolph raced off down the road, creating a considerable distance between them and us. Hal even slowed some more when he felt me starting to squeeze him tightly again.

"The trip's uncomfortable for you?" he questioned me.

I nodded, although he couldn't see it. "A little bit," I confessed. "I, uh, never rode on a horse before."

"Never?" Hal was shocked. "How did you get around to places then?"

I nearly said "The bus", but I stopped myself just in time. "I walk everywhere," I told Hal.

"Walking will definitely get you from point A to point B," Hal said. "But riding a horse is so much faster."

He was right about that. We had only been traveling for a few minutes now and I could already see the town that I had been looking for up ahead, about another mile or so.

"I guess I could get used to it then," I told him. "So what is a prince doing hanging out with . . . with criminals?" I asked Hal, trying to make casual conversation to pass the time. I hope that he wasn't offended by me calling his friends criminals, but that's what they were, there was no other word to describe them. I guess I could have called them crooks or delinquents.

Hal laughed, which wasn't the reaction I had been expecting. "Criminals?" he echoed. "Why do you call them criminals?"

"Well, because they like to steal stuff," I told him. "They also like to hit on strange girls and get drunk a lot. I don't know, criminals just sounded like a good word to use. At any rate, I don't think that a prince should associate himself with people who act like that."

Hal glowered. I could feel his shoulders slump, although I could not see his face. Had I said the wrong thing? Was he mad at me?

"You sound like my father," he told me after a moment of silence.

"I'm sorry," I apologized at once.

"No, no, it's okay," Hal assured me and I felt at ease. "The people that I am friends with are harmless really. Sure, they like to plunder and are drunkards but they are better than the elites that make up my father's crowd. I can't stand to be in the room with any of them for too long." He shook his head. "Politicians, noblemen, ambassadors, military leaders . . . Now, those are the real criminals, Natalie. Those are the people who lie and swindle their way to the top while taking advantage of the commoners, my friends. That is why I associate myself with the people that you call criminals, because I can relate better to the commoners than I can the elites. I am different than any of the elites you will ever meet. I've been around the commoners for most of my life and I know what they want. They want a voice in politics."

"I think what you are doing is a noble thing—getting to know the common folks and what they desire," I told him. "But not all people in positions of power are bad. I'm sure that your father isn't."

"No, my father is one of the good ones," Hal admitted, and I could tell that he wasn't just bragging on his father because King Henry was his father. No, Hal's words were profound, the truth. He honestly believed that his father was a good king and not so because they were related and he couldn't say anything bad about his father. "He wasn't always though. I don't necessarily agree with the way that he became king but since he has become king, my father has changed. He is a good king. He is just easily fooled by those around him."

"How did your father become king?" I questioned Will. "You said that you don't agree with the way he became king?"

Hal chuckled. "You must want a history lesson or something? What you people out west don't catch wind of stories about the Three Thrones?"

I chuckled myself, playing along. "No, we don't."

"Very well then, I will tell you how my father became a Golden Ruler," Hal told me. "It isn't much of a story, mind you. My father didn't go on some brave exploit to be crowned king, nor did he pull a sword out of a stone. My father simply gained power while King Richard II was away on a military campaign. My father declared himself king and he seized land from those in positions of power who stood against him. There wasn't much fighting involved, nor was there much resistance because my father was well-liked and favored even more highly than the current king at the time. When King Richard returned, my father and his supporters had him imprisoned, and my father was officially declared king a few days later."

I cocked my head in thought. "Oh, I see now why you are against your father's methods that he used to seize the throne," I said. "He used to be one of the elites that you despise, the type that lie and cheat their way to the top."

Hal nodded happily, proud that I had caught on so quickly. "Exactly!" he exclaimed. "My father went about it the wrong way and now, even though he has changed his ways, I fear that it may be too late. Justice for what he has done is approaching swiftly."

"What do you mean?" I wondered.

"There are whispers of rebellion in our kingdom now," Hal admitted. "Peasants are revolting and some of my father's former allies are turning against him. Owen Glendower, the dictator of Wales, is speaking openly against my father now, expressing the hatred that he has for who he calls a 'cowardly leader'. If civil unrest doesn't do in my father first, then the Welsh will."

"So, you believe that rebellions against your father will be payback for what he has done in the past?"

"Precisely," Hal said without hesitation. "How ironic."

"Yes, how ironic indeed."

I looked around, noticing that we had entered the town. Hal and I rode through the streets together, as I took in all of the sights. Falstaff was still hanging back a little ways ahead of us, but I couldn't see Poins, Peto, and Bardolph at all. They were long gone and probably back at King Henry's castle by now at the rate that they were traveling.

The town was a typical town I would have expected to see in a world like Shakespeare. The buildings were archaic, some fancier than others. There were several shops that were more outdoors like a market and even buildings that were comprised of wood and straw. Turkey legs were roasting on an open fire at once place, and the smell reminded me that I was starving. A merchant was selling jewelry at a wooden stand and he was shouting out "Rings for sale! I've got rings for sale!" continuously. I thought about the missing Leah's ring and my thoughts returned to the Seven Relics for a while until Hal spoke to me again.

"Natalie? Can I tell you a secret about me?" he asked me. "A secret that I have never confided with in anyone?"

"Sure," I told him, wondering why he wanted to tell me a secret. He barely knew me—well, technically, he didn't know me at all, not even my true name—and he was about to tell me something that he had never told anyone before. I couldn't figure out why he would want to do something like that. I guess I had "You can trust me" stamped across my forehead in big, freaking letters.

"I am putting on an act for everyone right now," he told me his secret. "I am spending time with commoners and criminals because I want people to get the wrong impression about me. I want them to believe that Prince Harry is a lowlife and will never amount to anything, let alone the King of England. Have you ever worn a mask, Natalie? Not a real mask, but a pretend one? Have you ever pretended to be someone your not?"

I nodded. "Yes, I have," I confessed to Hal. I was even doing it right now as we spoke to each other.

"Well, that is what I am doing, I am pretending," Hal continued. "Sure, I enjoy being friends with Falstaff and the gang but one day, I plan to leave this life behind and become the king that my father knows I can be, the king that I know I can be. I am grateful for my time spent outside of the castle, but my true place is by my father's side. And when the time is right, I will take off my mask for the world to see the true Hal. I will be a wise person because I will know what it feels like to be a noble and what it feels like to be a peasant. I will understand both worlds, something that no other king has understood before. Not even my father look to the commoners as much as he should."

"Good for you, Hal," I said. "I knew that you had another agenda."

I looked ahead and saw that Falstaff was staring at the two of us.

"So, Natalie, tell me a little bit about yourself?" Hal asked me. "I'm telling you my secrets and about my family and you haven't told me much of anything."

"There's nothing much to tell anyways," I said.

My eyes locked with Falstaff's eyes and for three seconds, we stared at each other. I narrowed my eyes and he turned away. I wondered how much he had heard of my conversation with Hal. Had he heard Hal's secret plans?

"Come on, Natalie," Hal pleaded. "Tell me something interesting about yourself."

I turned my gaze away from Falstaff, deciding not to worry about what he had heard. After dinner, I was out of there anyways. I would be back with the King's Men and hopefully I wouldn't see Falstaff again. I wished I could say the same thing about Hal . . . .

It was really Will all over again. Hal was drawing me in, making me feel things for him that I shouldn't feel quite yet or even at all. He was complex, so in control of his own destiny, knowing exactly what he wanted to do. He was so intelligent, so kind, and I believed that he would be a good king one day. If the prophecy I had read about him came true, then he would definitely become a good king.

"Okay," I said to him, enjoying the time that I spent with him while it lasted, as much as he enjoyed spending time with his friends that would come to an end soon. "I'll tell you a little bit about myself . . . ."

--------------------------------------------------

Will couldn't believe what he was hearing. Othello was presumed dead and Anne was missing, or dead too?

Anne _dead_?

Will felt a part of himself die when he heard Puck and Rosalind's recap on what had happened when they were traveling to Shakespeare with Anne. Atropos had come to visit them and had demanded to take Anne away from the group. Othello refused and Atropos attacked. Othello broke free to fight her and her avatars and he was currently missing, with everyone in the room assuming that he was a goner besides Prospero, who wouldn't announce Othello's death until he had proof that one of his greatest soldiers was truly gone. After Othello rushed to battle Atropos, Anne had lost her hold on Rosalind's hand and had fallen before the journey had been completed, fallen before the group had reached its destination. Puck, Rosalind, and Ariel had traveled on to Prospero's manor, but Anne had fallen . . . .

She was somewhere out there, Will was sure of it. Like Prospero, he would refuse to believe that Anne was dead until he had proof that she was dead. She had been traveling through one of the connecting gates between Shakespeare and the human world so she should have survived the fall. Where she was now? No one had a clue. And instead of sitting around talking now that Rosalind and Puck had concluded their tale, they needed to take action and send out search parties to find Anne.

In many ways, Will thought it was better that he had made the decision to return home to Shakespeare, instead of remaining in the human world to pine over his breakup with Anne. Here, he could assist in whatever plans Prospero and Oberon would have in finding Anne, where as if he had remained on Earth, he would have been oblivious to Anne's disappearance until Antonio had heard about it and then relayed it to him.

"We have to do something now!" Will cried, leaping out of his seat. He was pulsating and he couldn't take sitting still anymore. "We have to find Anne now!"

More than a dozen pair of eyes turned to stare at Will. Will didn't cower under their gaze, even though there were some big names gathered in the room with him, like Prospero, Oberon, and Titania. He stood strong, resolute. He was going to find Anne. She had already broken his heart by breaking up with him, but she was not going to break him completely by being never recovered. The longer she was missing, the more broken he became. He was antsy. He was on edge and a part of him wished he hadn't come to the meeting with Caliban, Mercutio, Macduff, and Portia. But Caliban had told him that it was something important about Anne and Will had jumped at the opportunity. A part of him wished that he had visited his mother instead. What you don't know can't hurt you . . . .

"We will, young Master Stratford, we will," Prospero reminded him in his calm, wise voice. Will wanted to yell at the old man for not moving fast enough but it was very difficult to become angry at Prospero; he just had a certain air about him that demanded respect and kindness all of the time.

If Will, Caliban, Mercutio, Macduff, and Portia were representing the Sycorax, then Prospero was representing the King's Men, along with Oberon, Rosalind, Puck, Ariel, Miranda, Malcolm, Michael Cassio, and Bassanio. Titania was there for the Fairy Wings, of course, along with the fairies, Moth and Mustardseed.

Will glanced at Cassio and for a second their eyes met. Although he was looking somber upon hearing the supposed fate of Othello, Cassio was also eager to get out and actually search for their missing comrades too. After all, Cassio and Othello were best friends.

"Anne is a stranger to Shakespeare and we can't leave her out there alone for too long," Will almost pleaded.

"I am aware of this," Prospero told him. "We will find Anne, I promise you."

For a fleeting second, Will looked as though he had more to say, but then, he was suddenly lost for words. He collapsed back into his seat, staring off to the side at one of the grandiose walls of the conference room within Prospero's home. Portia comforted him—she had always had a soft spot for William Stratford in an elderly sister way.

Oberon looked to Puck and Rosalind for more answers. Ariel wasn't involved in the conversation much anymore. She had given a brief testimony and was now hovering by the doors, separate from the rest of the group like usual.

"Do you have a general idea where Anne fell?" Oberon asked Rosalind and Puck.

Rosalind shook her head. "I don't know," she replied. "We were moving so quickly that the moment Anne fell, the next second we had moved away from her considerably and I could no longer see her at all."

"We were close to here though when she fell," Puck said. "I would wager that she is at least in one of the Three Thrones right now."

Prospero nodded. "Miranda, darling?" he called.

Miranda stood up and swept instantly by her father's side, her long blond hair glittering like diamonds. "Yes, father."

"I want you to send out messengers to each of the Golden Kings," Prospero instructed her. "Tell them that we are looking for a girl named Anne Hathaway, who is from the human world, and that we need their assistance in finding her."

Miranda nodded and left the room, stepping around Ariel and out the doors.

"What do you need for the Sycorax to do, my liege?" Caliban requested eagerly. He was just eager for action period.

"Nothing but for you to return to protecting your borders if you are still honorable, that is to say," Malcolm spat suddenly at Caliban, so that it shocked everyone. Malcolm, who was the prince of Scotland, was usually the one to shy away from confronting people. That was why everyone was surprised at his outburst. Mercutio and Macduff were scowling at him and Macduff and Malcolm were good friends, as Macduff was a loyal thane to King Duncan, Prince Malcolm's father. "I've heard about your attempt at kidnapping Anne Hathaway and now I truly question which side you are on, Caliban. Are you still loyal to the Sycorax and to concept of what is means to be good, or have you slipped into darkness and is now a devoted servant of the Dark Lady?"

"Prince Malcolm, Caliban's honor and loyalty is not what is to be discussed here," Macduff spoke up for the leader of the Sycorax. "Our primary topic is Anne Hathaway and how we are going to find her."

"I beg your pardon, my friend, but Caliban's honor and loyalty _is _what should be questioned here," Malcolm retorted. "He seems awfully eager to help in finding Anne and why did he attempt to kidnap her?"

Macduff opened his mouth to speak, but Caliban beat him to it. "Thank you, Macduff, for defending me, but I can speak up for myself," Caliban said loudly, smiling at the Sycorax member. Then, he turned his attention to Malcolm. Will squirmed in his seat in outrage that Prospero and Oberon was allowing this discussion to carry on. They should be out there searching for Anne, not talking about Caliban. Whatever personal intentions that Caliban would have for Anne no longer mattered now that they were back in Shakespeare. The King's Men would keep a prying eye on Caliban at all times, now that more and more King's Men were starting to think that Caliban had already switched sides. It would be impossible for Caliban to try and do what he had tried to do in the human world.

"When I journeyed into the human world, I did not go there to kidnap Anne Hathaway, I went there to find her and bring her back to Shakespeare with me so that we could find the Seven Relics together. I admit that I didn't want the King's Men involved because I wanted to bring glory to the Sycorax once again. I was wrong for feeling slightly jealous at how the Golden Rulers favor the King's Men so and the Sycorax remain in the shadows. But I was not going to take Anne to the Dark Lady, if anyone in this room believes that to be true. My intentions are always for the greater good and you should never doubt that."

"Your intentions may always be for the greater good," Rosalind spoke out of turn as well. "But there are always selfish reasons behind it all."

Caliban shrugged and grinned. Neither Rosalind nor Malcolm liked it much.

"Prospero and Oberon trust me," Caliban said. "I don't see any reason for anyone to question my loyalty and my honor."

Prince Malcolm looked to the two leaders of the King's Men, who were sitting next to each other. "You honestly trust him? He is a snake. Clearly, you all can see it."

"If you recall, my prince, Caliban is a spy working for the Three Thrones," Oberon reminded Malcolm. "He has gained access to the Dark Lady's inner circle over the past year and has fed us valuable information about her and her newly formed Dark Alliance with the Critics. Your father trusts him. King Henry and King Claudius trust him, and so did King Hamlet. The King's Men are devoted warriors who serve the Three Thrones, so I have to say that I trust Caliban too, and so does Prospero."

To this, Prospero nodded but remained silent.

"But you only trust him because the Golden Kings trust him," Bassanio added his opinion. "I am not questioning your trust. I just noticed, Master Oberon, that you seem to trust Caliban only because it is your duty to serve the Three Thrones."

From across the room, Portia smiled. She had always been smitten by wise men and not in a sisterly way.

"Caliban has never given us any reason not to trust him," Oberon pointed out. "And I simply trust him, bottom line and end of story. I also trust him because the Golden Kings trust him as well, I am not going to lie about that but—"

"But he has given plenty of reasons not to trust him—" Malcolm began, cutting off Oberon, who in turn was cut off by Ariel, who spoke up quietly from the doors. She had barely whispered but still her voice carried across the room to them all.

"Someone's coming."

Silence prevailed. A moment later, there came a knock at the doors "It's probably just Benvolio," Prospero presumed. "He and Romeo are securing the meeting. Enter!" he called loudly.

The doors swung open and a woman entered the room. She was dressed in a black cloak that covered her entire petite frame and swept the floor behind her. Her eye makeup was running streaks down her face as if she had been crying. Desdemona had heard the news about Othello and had come to call during the meeting between members of the King's Men, the Sycorax, and the Fairy Wings.

Desdemona swept across the room in a hurry. Ariel closed the doors behind her. Desdemona marched silently up to Prospero, who rose out of his seat to greet her.

"Is it true, my liege, is it true?" She demanded of Prospero, not bothering to greet him properly. "I have heard whispers and I will not believe them until you confirm something for me. Has Othello been taken into shadow? Has Atropos claimed him?"

"That is what many believe," Prospero told her and Desdemona started sobbing at once, thinking that Prospero believed it to be true as well. "_However_, I will not believe Othello to be dead until his body is recovered and we have proof." He comforted Desdemona and then looked into her eyes. "So keep your head up, my child. We will find Othello." He then looked to Will. "And we will find Anne Hathaway."

Will sat up all the way in his seat and listened.

"We are going to send out three search parties to the three kingdoms of the Three Thrones," Prospero concocted a plan. "I've already sent out messengers to the Golden Kings, so they should already be on the lookout for Anne at least by the time we arrive, and everyone knows who Othello is, so he should not be too difficult to locate." He looked at Caliban. "Caliban? I trust you as much as I trust myself. The time has come for you to regain trust from the rest of the King's Men. I need the help of the Sycorax if we are to locate Anne Hathaway and Othello. Will you be willing to lend some men to the cause?"

Caliban smiled. "Of course, my liege."

"Very well then," Prospero said. "Caliban, I would like for you to lead a search team to England. I will send several King's Men with the Sycorax members of your choosing who will accompany you."

"I'll go," Malcolm volunteered his services. "I would like to go and keep an . . . eye . . . on the situation."

At the same time, Will asked Caliban if he could accompany him to England and Caliban agreed. England was where Anne was rumored to have fallen and Caliban knew that Will wanted to be there if she was discovered there. They had a history together and Caliban couldn't deny the power of young love, although Anne didn't seem too happy with Will as of late. And Caliban could care less if he had anything to do with the sudden dislike. He had traveled to the human world and did what he did because of the greater good.

The England search party was set—Caliban, Will, Malcolm, Rosalind, and Puck, with the latter two joining the team at Prospero's request. After more discussions, Desdemona was chosen to led a search team to Scotland and Macduff would accompany her because he knew the kingdom well, and so would Ariel and Michael Cassio, who, as Othello's best friend, wanted to remain by Desdemona's side during their mutual time of grieving. Cassio had lost a close friend and Desdemona had lost something more. Caliban didn't think that it was fair for the King's Men to outnumber the Sycorax three to one for the Scottish search team, so he was allowed one more member and he chose Mercutio. The last search team, the one that would be going to Denmark, was selected shortly thereafter. Oberon would lead the third team personally and joining him was Portia and Bassanio. Titania decided to send Moth as well to assist and promised Prospero that the Fairy Wings would remain their eyes in the skies, as they were still on high alert after his request was made during the last general meeting for the Council of Seven.

"Well then, it has been decided," Prospero concluded. "Good luck to you all and Godspeed in finding our two missing friends."

But before they could head out, Ariel said, "Someone's coming again."

The doors burst open as expected. There wasn't a knock this time. It was Benvolio and he ran into the room, breathing hard and out of breath.

"Sorry to interrupt, my lords," he said to Prospero and Oberon.

"Benvolio? What is it, my son?" Prospero questioned him.

"He has been spotted and he is on his way here now!" Benvolio cried.

"Who?" Prospero wondered.

"Othello."


End file.
